Page 83 of Duchess Material

“No.”

“Your father.”

“Fuck. Off.”

“Look, kiddo, the way I see it, you did nothing wrong. From your perspective, anyway. The Home Office probably sees it differently. Your Dad—”

“He’s calling me,” Lucy groaned.

“Fuck. Now, he’s calling Lucy!”

“Well, you’re going to have to explain to him your reasoning because he won’t get off your back.”

“Fine,” Natalie sighed.

“You are tough as nails, kiddo. Don’t let him frighten you out of standing up for people. But also realise that you will have his job someday. You might grant him some grace.”

Natalie considered that as she hung up her phone. Lucy was shoving the secure line over now. She mouthed, “Sorry!”

All Natalie wanted to do was just not take the press conference.

“Natalie, you must listen to me.”

Natalie’s voice roared. “No, you do! I understand where you are coming from, Dad. I do. But you sent me here. You told me the talking points. I stayed within that frame in my remarks—peace, cost of war, international co-operation. The Home Office is jumping on me because they don’t want the Americans to get their feelings hurt. The Americans are actively hurting queer people, while also asking about the damn wedding. The whole delegation is pro-war-machine slime which has never, ever been held accountable. I handed them something they didn’t like, and they want to send it back. They don’t get to.”

“I am so glad this is a secure line.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck. Their repeated escalations cost lives, Dad.”

“I realise this. I don’t like it any more than you do. The Home Office is far less sympathetic.”

“The Home Office and Ministry of Defence were all too happy to send me on my merry fucking way into a warzone. They handed me a jet and sidearm and said ‘go mad and kill those other guys’. Which, I did. I did a damn good job. But they don’t then get to come back to me and say, ‘don’t have a fucking opinion’ because none of those bureaucratic shitheads have ever seen a minute of combat and would shit their pants over what I’ve seen.”

Robbie didn’t have a comeback. Natalie’s father seemed to search for the words.

“Natalie, it is a serious thing. I gather you have strong feelings about it—”

Natalie’s throat tightened. Tears welled. She choked out, “I have seen people die. People I eliminated. People I fought alongside. People.”

“Yes, well—”

“No, don’t tell me how to fucking feel. These people are advocates of attaching nukes to drones. They have no skin in the game, but they would kill millions. Yeah, I have some opinions about that, Dad. Have you ever seen someone shot out of the sky and wondered if it were you next? Dropped a bomb knowing you probably also killed civilians?”

She was crying now. Natalie was livid. The experiences she never talked about were all coming back. The feeling of helplessness, fear, and wanting to crawl into her mother’s lap all while trying to keep a plane in the air and wondering if this was her last moment on earth hit her again. The anger she felt when she found out that the target she just hit likely had wives and children. No one had told them. They weren’t to know until after the damage was done. Natalie had been cleared of having PTSD. She didn’t have torturous, vivid nightmares. She didn’t tense up in the cockpit. However, she had emotions. She felt things. It was all bubbling up.

“Natalie, sweetheart, I am sorry.” Her father sounded emotional. He was not a robot. He had feelings, too. “I love you. I am proud of you.”

Natalie burst into tears. “You think I’m a big fuck up.”

“Oh, sweetheart, no. I think you are braver than I ever was. Perhaps I take that for granted? You’re right. They sent you into a warzone and didn’t give it a second thought. And all of us at home were just glad you came back alive. Your mother and I worried every night you were out there. Every time. I forgot about it as much as I could.”

Natalie sniffled. “Nice for you. I couldn’t if I tried, Dad.”

“I know. That… I am sorry I wasn’t aware of it. I will try to be more mindful, alright.”

“As will I. I am sorry. I’m in a bad place.”

“Don’t be, sweetheart. Let me handle it,” Robbie said. “Mum sends her love.”

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