More Titles ~ 2

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Chapter Two

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“I tried to explain, but it was hard,” Anna Margaret said when she went to pick up Alex after she left the TV studio. She had an inexplicable urge to defend herself before anyone even said anything. Philip and Isabelle might not have watched, but they knew where she had been and why.

“We saw,” Philip said drily.

It was a little worrisome that Isabelle was studiously lifting Alex up from his cot. Anna Margaret watched her more than she watched Alex – he would be fine. He was always fine here, in his second home. But Isabelle was evidently working on a response.

“Well, you’re repressed by nature and nurture,” Isabelle finally said.

“Repressed?”

“Ruled by reason, not emotion. You have never let yourself go, except for that one time you got pregnant.”

Anna Margaret’s mouth opened and closed again. She was even too stunned to reach for Alex. “You don’t even have to let yourself go to get pregnant.”

“Which is all good,” Isabelle continued, “but the media cannot expect soppy declarations of love or transgressions by the pool.”

Anna Margaret had to admit that Isabelle was right about those expectations. Such things were not likely to happen. “But I don’t think transgressions by the pool are something to strive for.” That mild transgression next to the information booth at the bus station was about the wildest she would get and she was content with that.

“Your scale ends way before the transgressions,” Isabelle nodded. “When I discovered that, I knew it was all right.”

“And your scale? Or a normal scale?” She felt like a little girl.

“Never mind my scale. Only Frederick’s scale is important to you.”

“And when did you discover this?” If she did not know Isabelle did not drink, she might have thought her intoxicated.

“When you were just getting to know each other. We had informants.” She gave Philip a sideways glance.

Anna Margaret held up her hands to signify she did not want to be told about those informants – who they were or what they had said.

“I saw Frederick in the photo,” Isabelle said.

Anna Margaret took Alex, who smiled at her. “Should I have pointed him out?” She could not imagine no one had recognised him. He had been right there. People did not deserve to have him pointed out if they were blind. But yes, their not seeing him was similar to expecting someone to arrive in a sleek black limo and then not seeing him get off a bus. Expectations mattered.

“No. Let them think about what you said. It was the absolute truth. When they get it, they will see him.”

That was a relief. “But I still wasn’t there.” Some people would not rest until she had explained where she had been and when. “I wasn’t seen. I wasn’t married enough to say goodbye.”

“I had our Insta office remedy that.”

Anna Margaret did not use Instagram herself. The Prime Minister also did not have a whole office devoted to the Prime Minister’s official social media accounts. Someone occasionally did something with them, but she doubted that it was a fulltime job. It was all a bit vague to her. “How?”

“I took a photo this afternoon. It was only for our personal archives, but I decided to make use of it.”

“What did you take a photo of?”

“You were holding two vaccinated little boys. There’s a clock in the background.”

“How the **** did you orchestrate that?” Anna Margaret could not help herself. The clock probably indicated the exact time the train took off or something, proving that she could not be at the station because she had to be somewhere else.

“It was pure luck,” Isabelle said modestly.

“But then they will speculate why you weren’t there to hold your own baby.” It would never end.

“Because not in front of the camera means not there.”

“Exactly.”

---

Philip walked Alex and Anna Margaret to her car, because she had several things to carry. When his wife was not present, he had more opportunities to speak. “She laughed herself silly at the entire thing,” he said.

“I don’t know if it was meant to be funny. Actually, I’m sure it was not.”

“And those 35 hours...”

“I counted a night of sleep, because it would otherwise be even less. But at least it was a night spent in the same room.”

“If you can survive that...” Philip agreed. “Someone lost it at the creepy vibes, though.”

“No creepy vibes,” she corrected. “We even sat in the jacuzzi – in swimwear – and I knew he wouldn’t do anything.” She still felt the need to defend herself – why, really? They were family; they were nice.

“That must have been a fancy hotel room.”

“It cost a lot. I didn’t claim it as expenses, though. Anyone can request an overview of my expenses. I don’t know if they ever do.”

“If they can, they will,” was Philip’s opinion. “But if you pay for your own secrets, no one will contact the media about your boring expenses.”

“It was not a secret. It was classified security information at the time. I suppose now it isn’t anymore, but everyone has forgotten about it. They’re already writing enough about me without me dragging that up for no reason other than to justify why we got together.” Of course, should that period ever come under discussion for other reasons, she would have to say something about it, but not unprompted.

“Some of the media think we need them,” Philip said. “That we wouldn’t exist without them. But if we were really going to employ our social media channels to the max they would feel it. Isabelle is letting Florian explore this a bit. He’s our ‘Insta office’.”

They reached her car and she clicked it open. “It’s the same with sport, isn’t it? Some sports journalists think they have more relevance than athletes.” Anna Margaret had not really paid much attention until recently, but now she was personally invested and it bothered her.

“There are some serious egos there, yes.”

“And just because the big egos never paid attention to sports outside of the top three, anything outside of the top three is not a real sport and its athletes are not real athletes.”

“More or less,” he agreed. “They totally missed developments in this one sport and it can’t be their fault, because they know everything about sport. Therefore, rowing is not a sport.”

“And Frederick is not an athlete.”

“Doubly no. Do you want Alex in the front seat?” Philip had been carrying the car seat.

“Yes, please.” It was only a short drive, but she liked seeing him. “The egos are big fish in a small pond and they don’t even know how small it is.”

“Cross the border and they don’t even know our pond exists,” Philip nodded, strapping the car seat in while she tossed her bags onto the back seat. “Let alone who is who in it.”

“Tell me about it,” she sighed. “A lot of people overestimate our influence on the world stage.” She was always expected to tell leaders of much bigger countries what to do.

“Do you mean you couldn’t have got him a wildcard if you’d tried?”

“Don’t you start as well! But thanks.”

“Good night!” He waved and went back inside.

---

“I watched it, Anna Margaret,” said her father. He had evidently been lying in wait to see when she would get home, because the phone rang the minute she got in. He had still only got the number of her landline, or he would have phoned her the minute the next TV programme had come on.

“Thanks.” It was undoubtedly frustrating to him to have to wait so long, so she told herself to listen politely. She would much rather phone Frederick, but by now he might already be in bed. And she realised she should not thank her father before knowing what he was going to say. He did usually have improvements to offer, after all.

“Where was Alexander?”

“He was with his aunt.” She set the phone on speaker and began to unclip the straps of the car seat.

“You could bring him here some time, too.”

“You can’t breastfeed him.” And letting Isabelle handle one feed meant that she was bursting, when she leant forwards especially, but she sensed he would find all this too much information. He had always seemed uncomfortable with breastfeeding if they were visiting him. He had always needed to do something else at such a moment. It had never stopped her, however. Frederick had assured her there was nothing to see.

“Yes, well, breastfeeding. I don’t think you should have mentioned that on TV. It makes it look as if you don’t have your priorities straight. Isn’t it time to stop anyway?”

“No, we’re not going to stop. He doesn’t take the bottle.” Well, last time she had tried was two months ago, but his refusal still suited her fine. And it was all up to Alex anyway, not to outsiders.

“He will, if you don’t give him a choice.”

That sounded horrific to her. Starve her son for...priorities? That was never going to happen. She gave her son a kiss. “I certainly hope that’s not how I was brought up, because that’s cruel.”

“I don’t know. That was not my business. I’m just saying –“

“Dad. Don’t interfere. You know nothing about it.” She looked around to see if there was anything else she needed to take upstairs. It was late; she would rather not waste time going back for something she had forgotten.

“I know how it looks when you talk about breastfeeding.”

“You know how it looked thirty or forty years ago.” She trusted they had progressed at least a little bit by now.

“This hasn’t changed.”

“It’s a reality. Whoever cramps up hearing about it, should get used to it. Babies are humans. They need to be fed. The government advises breastfeeding. It does not exclude women with jobs from that advice. In fact, the law says employers must facilitate it. And that’s what I’m doing. I’m facilitating it for myself. No one else will do that for me, because I have no boss. Men who have problems with that ought to be ashamed of themselves because they clearly didn’t do their share when they were fathers with small children.”

Her father was at least never offended by rants. “I still think –“

“Dad. Women are not men. Babies are not dolls. Trust me, if I’d been sitting across from a man with such antiquated ideas earlier in the studio, I would have said the same.”

“Men with antiquated ideas are also a reality.”

“Unfortunately. So, they need to be informed and they need to be made aware that in real life, women who have had babies need to feed those babies. OK, Dad. You get the message. I need to go put Alex in bed now.” She had the landline on speaker, but she did not want to carry it all around the house. She would forget where she left it.

“There will be reactions.”

“I always get reactions. Good night!”

---

Reactions on social media were mixed. Some people understood her and were amused at how she had handled it. Some people did not understand her at all and were miffed at the lack of clear, spoon-fed answers.

Thankfully Anna Margaret was, for the moment, blissfully unaware of everything. Although she had done the interview to change some of the reactions, or to set people straight, she did not want to look anything up right now. It was time for sleep.

---

Anna Margaret tried to stick to the usual routines she followed with Frederick, but it was difficult when she had got home relatively late and there was no one to share the load with in the morning. She was not as experienced in running behind the stroller as he was and she did not run as long.

Then it was a shower, changing Alex into his day clothes as well, and breakfast, with no one having prepared any of the steps for her. But she did not complain. Least of all to him, of course. She was not going to disturb him with that while he had more important things on his mind. Later, when he was back, she might say she had missed him and how much easier it was if he was there, but for the time being she would have to deal with everything herself. And she could do it. It only took more time.

---

Most news sites ran an article on the interview, but one of them asked for anyone who had experience seeing the Prime Minister and her husband in the wild to share their stories or photos.

It was an interesting walk to work that morning after reading that, but Anna Margaret supposed nobody would be photographing her now, with no husband in sight. Seeing her might only remind people that they saw her now and then, but nothing else.

At eleven an article had been published that quoted two people who had been on the same bus. Julie, 27, had seen them, all three of them, because they had sat in backwards facing seats. She furthermore wondered why anyone would take a picture, now, because everyone would have seen them in the weeks and months before. Mo, 16, had seen them saying goodbye. He had known, because there was a photo of the previous Minister for Transport in his social studies book.

Columns and the like were what she always skipped during her first reading of the newspaper. She read the paper version at work, along with paper versions of some international publications. Now her assistant George had stuck sticky notes on every article that dealt with her. He never did that.

“Don’t make this a habit, George,” she said.

He gave her a look that said, well, don’t make it a habit to make people write about you. He was right, of course. But she was certain it would soon blow over. They could not persist in writing fiction forever.

Someone had even written a column about her and called her his secret crush. She sighed. Obviously the writer had never understood how she could be with Frederick, whom he described as bland, untalented and stiff. However, while he still did not understand the 35 hours, he had begun to wonder if there might be more to Frederick, given how he apparently supported his wife quietly by doing his share.

It was all very well that the writer seemed to be a fan, but even he had not done his research. She sighed. It was really not an impossible task to employ Google to discover the simplest of things, namely the Olympic qualification procedure.

She asked her communications staff to check Instagram. Of course someone had wondered why she had been holding two babies, but Isabelle had apparently been snapping away prolifically without her noticing it. There was another photo of a woman’s hand on a smiling baby’s belly and that woman clearly wore a wedding ring.

“And we all know, the Prime Minister doesn’t wear a wedding ring,” Anna Margaret said sarcastically. That would be seen as proof that their marriage was over. They had never had rings, though.

The staff member went back to the first photo in which her hands were visible. “No, it seems she doesn’t.”

“Why are we even checking this?” she sighed. This was such a waste of serious work time. There was a proposal for a work visit in September to look over.

“It’s very interesting, though. Some people just found out that the Queen changes her own baby’s nappies. Or at least they think that’s what it looks like.”

“Yeah. Back to work.”

Her spokesman rubbed his hands in anticipation. “There’ll be a list of questions we’ve received about your interview on your desk in fifteen minutes.”

“Oh, no. It’s going to take you fifteen minutes to compile?” That sounded ominous.

“I’ve already been working on it for an hour, actually.”

That was even worse. She could imagine what some of those questions would be. “Looking forward to it. Is it a coffee moment?”

“Some are suitable for that, yes.”

“OK, make it a coffee moment.”