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Green-eyed Journos
Mr Heller will simply have to curb his enthusiasm.
Philip has died.
Mr Heller will simply have to curb his enthusiasm.
Philip has died.
Mr Heller will simply have to curb his enthusiasm.
Philip has died.
Mr Heller will simply have to curb his enthusiasm.
Philip has died.
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I should think he could better occupy his time investigating the finances of the "advisers" to the current Government. We're still waiting with baited breath to hear who paid for Mr. Werrity's hotel rooms.I'm so sorry about Philip. We never could have done it without him, and I know you two were close.
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To Philip.
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*removes headphones, strains of music still emanating from the earpieces*
*accepts a glass and stares at it for a few moments, before mumbling the toast and taking a sip*
*stares at toes*
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I hear your tribute was well received. It must have taken a lot to do that, you should be commended.
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*song changes*
*nearly snarls at ipod, switches it off, then chucks it and the headphones on the table with a clatter*
*glares into wineglass again, before setting it rather more gently on the table*
Hardly.
*draws knees up to chin*
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Oh, um...
*Takes a piece of paper out of his inside pocket*
He wanted to visit but I didn't think you'd be in the mood for his antics so rather than coming over he wanted me to give you this.
*Puts piece of paper on the table and pushes it over to Peter*
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*sniffs a bit but very determindly does not need to use the hanky*
*pauses for a few moments, steadying his voice*
*swallows*
I see.
W-well pass on my thanks.
*glances up briefly at the broomstick almost hidden in the corner*
*flashes a very brief smile at John before returning to staring at the paper*
He'll get his flying lessons, soon enough.
No need to w-worry.
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*Sees that Peter isn't listening*
*There is an awkward silence wherein John attempts to say something but when words fail him, he takes a sip of his glass. By the time John convinces himself that continuing to not talk would be more awkward than what he has to say, three quarters of his glass has gone*
Do... do you want to talk about it? Him - his... passing on?
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*another awkward silence passes, longer and more discomfiting than the last*
Go home, John.
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Sit, boys.
*crouches down and unclips leads*
*lowers voice*
Go on you two, upstairs.
*Wanders through to lounge*
I'm - what are you doing here?
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I brought Peter a bottle of wine. I thought after today's news he could use it.
*Gets up from sofa and wanders through to kitchen, throwing a spell over his shoulder as he leaves. A roaring fire springs to life in the fireplace.*
*John returns a moment later with a third full glass of wine and the rest in the bottle. He sets both of them on the table and begins to potter about the room, trying to find some suitable music and a blanket to have on standby*
*He glances back over his shoulder to see Osborne staring at him*
The furniture isn't going to bite; sit down and have a drink.
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*walks deliberately past Bercow to drinks cabinet*
*pours drink from bottle of port instead*
*squeezes Peter's shoulder momentarily as he returns to take seat on the sofa as far from Bercow as possible*
I'm surprised it took you so long to get around to getting here.
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*Sets about reorganising cushions on the chairs and puts a blanket within easy reach of Peter, should he need it*
I could have said the same about you but I thought better to rise above such petty jibes.
*Goes over to fire place and pokes at the fire*
*Flies a log in from outside and puts it onto the fire*
*Turns and leans against the mantelpiece*
*With a wave of his hand, Frank Sinatra starts playing and the wine bottle tops up Mandelson's glass*
Busy day?
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*after the third Sinatra song, and not a little squabbling from the other two, Peter unfolds and exits the room, slamming the door behind him*
*the noise startles the dogs, who run, barking, to his feet until he quiets them and leads them upstairs to the study, locking the door securely behind him*
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*rounds on Bercow*
Now look what you've done!
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Everything was perfectly under control until you arrived, I'll have you know!
*Snatches blanket back and puts it away*
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I most certainly am not folding it incorrectly! This was how it came out of the cupboard!
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Look, give it here *snatches from hands*
*folds irately*
*pauses mid crease*
Sorry. I'm sorry. It's been... look, could you go please? I'll give Peter your best wishes or... whatever.
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*Music stops, cork pops back in bottle and empty glasses fly though to kitchen and are promptly washed up*
Of course, I should have thought about...
If you would be so kind as to pass on a message for me? It's my son's birthday tomorrow and he's having a few friends round for jelly and ice cream. He's asked that Peter be there. If he feels up to it, we'd be delighted to see him.
*Casts out fire and steps into ashes*
Take care of him.
*Disappears*
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*Finds none*
*Skulks upstairs to bedroom*
*Knocks on door hesitantly*
Peter?
*rolls eyes at dog barks*
May I please come in?
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*closes eyes and breathes deeply through nose; in and out for 10 breaths*
*flicks a finger at the door and the latch clicks open*
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*searches for*
There you are.
*kneels next to*
I'm sorry. For -
what happened downstairsPhilipeverythingI'm sorry.*winds arm around shoulders quietly*
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I'm fine.
*brusquely checks phone, then places it on the desk*
*Faces George with a determined expression*
It happens.
As the years go by, it will happen more frequently.
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Don't look at me like that. I'm not a journalist ready to ravage you for a hint of reportable emotion.*doesn't shift arm*
That doesn't mean it's not awful.
*sends text*
*resolutely looks away from Peter and up at screen*
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*stares down at jack, dozing quite happily with his head in peter's lap, until the Iron Lady's familiar tones jerk his heard up to look at the screen*
Ah... the start of the home-straight.
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*attempts to prevent mouth twisting in distaste*
*does not quite succeed*
*sighs and relaxes back against wall, prepared for a large amount of grumbling abuse aimed at his party*
*traces circles on Peter's arm and begins to doze*
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*Peter cradles it in two hands and wriggles slightly closer to George, as he watches the resignation play out with a small smile on his face*