Carter's Recourse - 37. Chapter 37

Sunday came all too fast for Will's liking. The day before had been a manic rush that had him shaking hands and performing photo-ops with important British politicians eager to capitalize on his presence and his relationship to a true hero.

Will's encounter with the British Prime Minister had been brief and limited to a handshake and a few exchanged words, before they had both been pulled aside by their respective aides and introduced to other important dignitaries.

Brody seemed to settle into the informal buffet luncheon well, discussing something with... Will blinked, was that a Spice girl? He shook his head, couldn't be. And he had returned his attention to the British Foreign Secretary, who had lectured him at great length on the situation in the Middle East, and how important their presence there was.

When it had concluded--not fast enough in Will's honest opinion--he was all too happy to weather the long drive to the M25 and eventually down the A22 that would connect him to Hailsham and his home.

He remembered sitting in the country house's kitchen, his spoon pushing its way through muesli that his grandmother had prepared for her little boy, looking out the lead-lined window over the English garden where the old woman was picking beans from their stalks, getting ready for her infamous Sunday dinner.

Will had grown up in that house, running and playing in that kitchen, stealing biscuits from the same weathered blue tin that he could see poking out from its shelf. It was some ridiculous time in the morning, and there he sat, already in his shirtsleeves and a black waistcoat, his father's pocket watch tucked away, the gold chain the only splash of colour on him.

He was home, long years away hadn't changed anything about the house but instead, he knew, that it was himself that had changed. Grown up, grown old. He sat and listened to a blackbird that was warbling for attention on one of the fence posts, ruffling its feathers against the damp air, before it took off in search of a meal.

"Morning has broken, like the first morning..." he murmured with a smile.

"Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird," his aged grandmother quoted back at him, as she walked through the back door of the old house, hefting her small basket of beans up onto the counter.

Will flashed her a light smile as he shifted in his chair, the old wood creaking under him as he turned to look over at her. "Beans?" he asked with a nod.

"You're too thin," he grandmother admonished. "It's all that Canadian food, I've seen it. Nothing solid and decent in the whole lot. When was the last time you had a home-cooked meal?"

Will winced. "Considering my idea of culinary expertise involves a smoke detector telling me when it's done..."

His grandmother heaved a long sigh. "Didn't you learn how to cook?" she asked. "Doesn't that young man of yours know how?"

Will nearly choked on his cereal at the thought of Marc cooking. "He's worse than I am..."

"You see," his grandmother commented, cracking the beans and popping them one after another into the pot. "This is what I never understood, if neither one of you can cook..."

Will smiled at the old woman who had been like a mother to him growing up, shaking his head; she was really accepting of who he was. She loved all her grandchildren utterly, doting on each of them, but sometimes she still held very Victorian ideas.

"I brought those two nice policemen some tea this morning," she continued. "I've never had a uniformed policeman on my door step all night before."

"I'm sorry..." Will began, "they just..."

"Nonsense," his grandmother smiled at him as she busied herself adding water to the pot. "You're an important man now, all grown up." She gave him a nod. "Besides, young Luke always was a polite boy."

"Luke?" Will asked, slightly confused.

"Yes, the policeman; he looks quite handsome in his uniform and helmet." She covered the pot and set it aside ready to cook once they got back from the memorial dedication. "Jan Allston's boy, you remember..."

Will shook his head slowly, trying to think back, "No..."

"Never mind, then," she said, rinsing off her hands, as the backdoor opened, and an all-too-familiar face poked around it.

Will smiled setting his spoon down as he stood up. "Lucy!"

"Will!" His younger sister was in his arms, her head pressed against her big brother's chest the moment she saw him. And Will hugged her tightly before stepping back to admire how much like a woman the eighteen-year-old girl was.

She was beautiful, but the hazel eyes and rebellious curls in her hair marked her undoubtedly as a Carter, dressed in a beautiful summer dress, red poppies that were strangely appropriate, and so very English.

"Holy..." Brody remarked walking into the kitchen, tying his tie, and spying the beautiful young woman for the first time.

"Don't even think about it," Will responded, throwing a glance at his unscrupulous friend.

Lucy turned to face Brody and looked him up and down, smiling prettily as she turned back. "Why is there a policeman on the door step?" she asked curiously.

"Dude, she's like a girl version of you..." Brody said, nudging Will. "So really no difference at all then..."

Will shot his friend a dark look. "Don't go near my sister..." he warned... and looked at Brody.

Who in turn looked down at Will. "Eww" they both said in unison.

"Policeman... doorstep... hello." Lucy waved her hand to get their attention.

Will stopped and explained about the protection detail, pausing to look around him. "Where's... your mom?" he asked looking at Lucy, kind of glad that the woman wasn't anywhere near him, but still wondering where she was.

Lucy looked a little distressed. "She...wasn't feeling well..."

Which was, for Will, a way of saying she was off to spend more of his father's money. And Will had to fight down the wave of anger, knowing full well that calling attention to the fact that he considered his stepmother a gold-digging lush would only upset his sister further.

"I should go and get dressed," his grandmother announced, taking off her apron and hanging it on a peg beside the door. "There's tea made, help yourself to breakfast."

Will settled in, smiling at Lucy as she joined him at the table, both anxious to catch up on their lives.

* * *

West let himself out of the hotel, settling his tab with cash. He tucked his peaked cap back onto his head and shrugged on his heavy topcoat as he made his way to the taxi that was waiting for him. Crisp and clean-shaven, Eastbourne had afforded him an opportunity to freshen up, and he had picked up a change of clothes to tide him over the two-night stay. But considering the amount of attention that was going on in Hailsham, he would do better in uniform than in civvies. There were already a large number of service personnel in the area for the event, and West knew he could get closer to Will dressed appropriately.

The taxi driver drove diligently along the English countryside, and West settled in, watching the convoy of Land Rovers that pulled past him, working their own way from the army base in Eastbourne towards the ceremony. It was an honour guard, and West leaned forward to nod at them.

"Can you keep up with them?" he asked, slipping the taxi driver a large bill.

Eager to earn his extra tip, the taxi slipped in beside the convoy and kept pace with it, following them along south road and over the bridge into the heart of the town, pulling to a stop as the convoy ground to a halt in the carpark that had been set aside for them in behind the courthouse.

West paid off the driver, adjusted his uniform and marched up to the troops spilling out of the trucks and Land Rovers, assembling to carry out the tasks pre-assigned to them.

A young lieutenant was directing the enlisted men of the signals regiment looking over his clipboard and looking stressed. He blinked at West's approach, snapping to attention and raising a hand in a salute to the sudden arrival of a superior officer.

West returned the salute, standing easy despite the warmth of the sun breaking through the light clouds, making it clear he wasn't about to interfere with the preparations, nodding to himself as a second convoy arrived and yet more soldiers were deposited and assembling, brass and caps, rifles raising to their shoulders.

West nodded, one more in a crowd wouldn't be noticed.

* * *

Templeman leaned against the wall sipping tea from a styrofoam cup and keeping his eyes peeled. He had already flagged five MI6 operatives trying their best to look inconspicuous. They seemed to have no clue that Templeman's team were present as well. The local news van over behind the BBC van housed a couple of his team who had spliced into the CCTV cameras that were monitoring the large market square, keeping a bird's-eye view for him.

Templeman nodded, checking his watch, the ceremony would begin in an hour. Which meant the young army captain had to be somewhere close by, probably unaware of the MI6 net that was ready to close on him if he showed his face. But if they made their move, then Templeman would be in a position to do something to stop it.

It was a matter of professional courtesy; he didn't like the idea of them pulling of illicit operations on his home soil. It made them no better than common thugs; whatever Sir Nigel was playing at, letting his dogs off the leash, Templeman was standing ready to deal with it.

"The honour guard just arrived," clicked one of his men through the radio earpiece he was wearing.

"Any sign of the captain?" Templeman murmured towards his collar microphone.

"Too many officers, it's hard to tell..." came the reply.

"Find him," Templeman instructed, manoeuvring away from his perch to come up beside the low brick wall surrounding the memorial, near to where the stage platform had been set up with its podium, the crowd already gathering ready for the unveiling.

* * *

Will's car stopped, with its police escort, in front of the town council offices, down and behind the town centre. He took a deep breath and climbed out of the car, reaching down to give his grandmother a hand to join him. Pausing a moment to wonder at how elegant she looked dressed in her best for what was a great honour for the family.

"Minister," the mayor of the town greeted, stepping forward, the gold chain of office around his neck, the small town politician trying to hide his enthusiasm to be the first to greet the Minister.

Will inclined his head. "Sir," he greeted, "may I present my grandmother, Mrs. Carter."

"An honour," the Mayor replied, bowing to her and taking her hand formally. "We have set up some light refreshments before we head up to the memorial." He motioned inside the building, the doors held open by a couple of stewards wearing white gloves.

Will glanced up at the sun, knowing that he would begin to sweat in the suit jacket he was wearing and he shrugged it off handing it back to Lisa who returned it to the car. Since he was the guest of honour, it was appropriate for him to show a little informality considering the weather was nearing twenty-five degrees and set to climb over thirty before noon.

"This way, Minister," the mayor said, his eyes tightening at Will's shirt-sleeved appearance. But Will pointedly ignored the look--he wasn't there for the cameras or the politicians, he was there for his father.

He shook hands with a number of the town councillors and other dignitaries that had assembled in the large hall, people of all the various town communities eagre to meet him, most not really aware of who he was beyond that he was related to Colonel Carter, and that he was supposedly important.

Will listened intently to a couple of little old ladies who explained to him they were a part of the community women's group, the ones kind enough to prepare the tea and light refreshments that were being served. He bobbed his head, holding up the scotch biscuit. "Amazing," he reassured, moving on before they could explain more to him.

He breathed a sigh of relief as Lisa caught him quickly. "A general just arrived, they're making quite a fuss, I think the mayor wants..."

Will nodded, setting his cup down along with the half-eaten biscuit and followed her through to where a bespectacled man covered in brass and medal ribbons was gwuffing at the Mayor, looking every inch the model of a modern major general...

Lisa caught the smirk that Will was fighting. "Stop that..." she murmured.

"I can't help it," Will murmured quietly, as he fixed a polite smile on his face, waiting for the general to be introduced to him.

There was a specific etiquette to how introductions were done; socially those of lower station were presented to those higher in the social order. And Will was a Minister of the Canadian Privy Council, which put him the highest one present. Suddenly Will had a while new appreciation for what the royal family had to put up with, social dos and don'ts, everything carefully choreographed.

In Canada it wouldn't have mattered too much, but here tradition was the driving force behind everything. He was expected to act a certain way, to present an image of what a Minister should be. And Will played his part well.

The general shook his hand, and commented that he was honoured. Will nodded in return before the general was swept off deliberately by one of the mayor's aides, keeping Will free and clear.

Will sighed and glanced over to where his grandmother, on Brody's arm, was discussing something with a collection of political wives, at home in her element. And Will envied her the ease in which she went from her garden to a high society function and looked so comfortable.

"Relax, you're doing fine." Lucy took his arm, and patted it, guiding him back towards the refreshment table. "Most of these people don't get out much, and when they do they like to put on a show."

Will smiled at his sister as he allowed himself to be led, passing by the large windows and the green lawns that rolled behind the council building. "It's a bit different in Canada," he admitted.

"The trick is not to get drawn into a conversation," Lucy explained. "Keep your responses short, and don't be afraid to excuse yourself..."

"St Bedes?" Will asked, referring to the expensive private school Lucy had attended before being accepted to university.

She nodded. "You know dad, he always wanted the..."

Will nodded. "I remember all too well what he wanted," he replied quietly. "It makes me wonder what he would say now."

"He'd say he was proud of you," Lucy nodded. "I know I am."

"Shouldn't I be saying that to you?" he asked with a smirk. "A scholarship to Cambridge isn't easy to come by."

Lucy nodded, "I want to go into law..."

Will's smile tightened just a fraction, his mind thinking about Andrew. "You know if you do well, you could make a jump to politics..."

"I think I'll leave the quest to be a Prime Minister to you," she said with that smile of hers, and Will suddenly realized how grown up she really was. And he felt old, really old, for the first time in his life. Her life was just beginning, and all the adventures that she would have. He envied her that, but he knew that while his career was in full swing, it was far from over. Life still had a few surprises left for him.

"Prime Minister Carter," Will said with a sly smile. "You know, that does have a ring to it."

They collected a couple of cups of tea, Will once again selecting a scotch biscuit. "Was it really such a faux pas for me to take off my jacket?" he asked looking at the men sweltering in their suits and ties, while he relaxed comfortably in his shirtsleeves and a waistcoat.

"You look fine," Lucy reassured, reaching up to straighten his tie and adjust his pocket watch, stopping when she recognized it. Her eyes widened a little and her bottom lip quivered as she drew it out.

Will looked down at her, realizing for all his dispassion towards his father, Lucy had been his little girl and she missed her daddy something terribly. And Will couldn't help but feel for her loss, pulling her close in an embrace. In the rush of the pomp and pageantry, the fact that this was to mark the death of their father seemed to have been lost.

"I miss him too,' Will murmured, the truth not because he missed the man that was, but rather, he missed the man that could have been. The father that he had never really known and now never would.

"Excuse me, Minister, Miss Carter," the mayor cleared his throat. "We should be making our way towards the memorial now."

Will nodded, setting his cup and untouched biscuit down again, and putting an arm around his sister. It was his turn to guide her, the pocket watch still held loosely in her hands as they walked.