Page 11 of The Unlikely Pair

My parliamentary assistant, Charlie, answers his phone on the first ring. I wouldn’t expect anything less. Charlie has only been my aide for six months, but he’s the most enthusiastic worker I’ve ever had.

“Charlie, it’s Harry. I’m sorry to be a bother, but I’m afraid I’m running late, and it appears I shall miss my flight. Can you please reschedule another one for me?”

“I’m on it, boss,” Charlie says.

“Thanks, Charlie.”

I end the call and sit back.

I barely have enough time to peruse the latest headlines on the political websites before Charlie calls me with a solution.

“All other flights to Oslo today are already full. However, there’s another delegate who has missed his flight. Parliamentary staff found a private jet that can fly both of you from Stansted. It should get you to Oslo before the opening address.”

“Thank you, Charlie.”

“We’re aware of the optics of flying a private jet to a climate change conference, so we’re arranging for the carbon emissions to be offset by planting lots of trees in your name. It’s like giving Mother Nature a big, leafy apology bouquet.”

“Very well,” I say.

“Unfortunately, the other delegate is a Labour MP, but I’m pretty sure they won’t contaminate you with their ideology on a short flight.” Charlie laughs his braying laugh.

My stomach clenches.

Five Labour MPs are attending the climate change conference. The panic currently swarming my stomach is unnecessary. The odds that the MP I’ll have to share a plane with is Toby Webley are only twenty percent. There’s an eighty percent chance I won’t have to interact with him at all.

“Which MP is it?” I ask, trying for a casual tone like it’s only a passing concern.

“Toby Webley,” Charlie says in his overenthusiastic voice.

Blast. The mathematics have betrayed me.

I hesitate. I cannot, in good conscience, request that Charlie find me another option simply because of the never-ending animosity between Toby and me. That would be elevating pettiness to an entirely new level.

“Is that all right, boss?” Charlie seems to have picked up on my hesitation.

“Of course it’s perfectly fine,” I say.

“The jet is only capable of comfortably carrying two passengers, so Paul won’t be able to accompany you. I’ve already contacted RaSP to ensure there will be sufficient security detail once you land in Oslo.”

Marvelous. That means it’ll be just Toby and me alone in a small plane cabin for a few hours.

I glance over at Paul, who is messaging on his phone. I’m sure he’s being informed right now about the change. RaSP, which stands for Royalty and Specialist Protection, is the highly specialized branch within the Metropolitan Police Service. It’s responsible for protecting the royal family, government ministers, and other public figures. In every encounter I’ve had with them, I’ve found them to be models of efficiency and professionalism.

“It means you won’t have security support while you’re in the air, but I’m sure you won’t need it,” Charlie continues with a chuckle.

Charlie’s optimism shows he clearly doesn’t know the history between Toby and me.

Although encounters between Toby and me have never come to blows. Yet.

I manage to keep my voice controlled. “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

After ending the call, I tip my head back on the seat of the car. I can’t keep thoughts of Toby Webley from floating through my mind. His loud, deep voice that somehow manages to render every other sound in the room inaudible. His grin he shares with everyone besides me, where I only receive a condescending smirk. The way his eyes meet mine in a cool and appraising stare.

I’ve survived a lot of unpleasant situations in my life. Surely, I can endure a plane trip with Toby Webley. After all, it’s only for a short time.

My declaration that I can handle a plane trip with Toby Webley falters slightly when I find myself at the terminal gate, observing Toby hurrying through the fixed-base operator terminal, engaged in a loud conversation on his phone.