Page 55 of Birds of a Feather

‘If we’re going to spend the day together today, there’s something you need to know about me,’ I announced to Nick when he arrived at the hotel.

His eyes narrowed as he studied me intently. ‘Go on,’ he urged suspiciously.

‘I love all of the ceremony, history and tradition of the royal family,’ I said boldly. ‘I know The Firm represents an antiquated system. I know the institution represents colonisation and oppression across the Commonwealth, and especially for the First Nations people of Australia. And I think it’s ridiculous that we still award power to people based on their progeny. But there’s something about it all that I find …’

I searched for a word to summarise the admiration I felt for an institution governed by centuries-old rules and regulations and the envy I had for those born into aristocracy; I wished my family had been more structured and predictable.

‘… reassuring,’ I said finally.

‘Phew,’ he exhaled deeply. ‘You had me worried then. That’s fine. Me too.’

‘Really? You do?’

‘Well, yes, in principle,’ Nick replied. ‘I mean, there are many things that could use a shake-up. But I’ve lived my life against the backdrop of the royal family. It’s hard not to have a soft spot for them.’

I was glad to hear this, as most of the activities I had planned for the day included paying homage to the family that had dominated my history books, appeared on my currency and consumed my imagination for as long as I could remember.

I detailed my plans to visit the Tower of London and Kensington Palace.

‘But first,’ I said, producing two tickets I had purchased through the hotel, ‘the London Eye.’

Nick’s left eye twitched, in what was definitely not a wink.

‘I hope that’s okay,’ I asked rhetorically. I had scheduled the entire day around our London Eye session time and based on the most efficient way of navigating the city by public transport. And I’d purchased non-refundable tickets; changing the plan now was completely out of the question.

‘Sure. Yes. Great,’ he said, a little too enthusiastically. ‘This will be great. I’ve never been on the London Eye. So … great.’ He smiled broadly as he fiddled vigorously with the arms of the sunglasses he was holding. ‘Great,’ he repeated. ‘Let’s get going then.’

A bus and tube trip later, we stood in line with the hordes of other tourists at the base of the London Eye.

Nick had been quieter than normal en route to the attraction, except to disclose that he ‘wasn’t great with heights’. He insisted that he was keen to join me on the wheel, but his constant fidgeting, furrowed brow and the fact he’d been to the bathroom twice since we’d arrived at the attraction suggested otherwise.

‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ I asked after I noticed a film of sweat had formed on his top lip. ‘You don’t have to come up with me. I can see if I can sell your ticket to someone in the queue, and we can meet up after I finish.’

‘It’s fine,’ he said unconvincingly. I’m fine. It will be—’

‘Fine?’ I offered.

He smiled sheepishly.

As we were called to board the pod, Nick grabbed my hand and exhaled deeply before he made his way to the centre of the vessel and sat on the surfboard-shaped bench. We had joined an older couple whom we later discovered were German; a mother, father and two surly looking teens; and a couple with thick Mancunian accents, who announced to everyone that they were on their honeymoon, although they needn’t have bothered – their public display of intimacy made this an easy guess.

‘Have a good trip, folks,’ the attendant said as he closed the pod door and fastened it shut.

Nick’s breathing quickened.

‘We’ll be fine,’ I said. ‘Besides, whatever happens is fate, right?’

He rolled his eyes and then shut them tightly.

‘You’re not going to keep your eyes closed the entire time, are you?’ I asked after a few moments.

He opened one slightly into a comical reverse-wink.

‘There’s no way I want to see any of this. It’s bad enough imagining how high off the ground I am. There’s no way I want to have that validated.’

‘But the view is the whole point,’ I pleaded. ‘Why did you come on board if you weren’t going to enjoy it?’

‘I never said I would enjoy it, but I came on board because you—’ He paused as the pod stopped moving forward and swayed slightly on the spot. ‘What’s happening?’ he asked urgently, grabbing for my hand. ‘Why are we swaying?’

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