From Fitzroy's Private Diary (Extract 145)

Over the years I’ve come to notice that people tend to have a part of themselves that is the centre of many afflictions. Take Bertram for example (please, do take him). Too much excitement, too much worry, and his heart goes a bit dicky. I used to know a chap who, the more worried he got, the more his right leg shook. Bit of a giveaway in tense situations.

Still, there’s a big difference between a ‘tell’ and the weakest part of one’s body. Almost all men will fiddle with their ties, or collar, when pushed or worried. They’ll fail to meet your eyes when they are lying. Some even have useful facial tics that tell you when they are under pressure - very useful when playing cards. These tells are natural aspects of one’s body, and one can be trained to observe them. One can also be trained not to display them, as I have. However, what cannot be trained out of one is an inherent physical weakness.

I’ve frequently had aspersions cast my way by both family and enemies (is there a difference? With a family like mine, I tend not to draw the line too distinctly). I’ve been accused of being passionate, hot-headed, idle, difficult, and promiscuous, to name but a few. I don’t actually mind any of these, except for ‘idle’. I’m never idle, but then, others aren’t generally aware of my occupation, and how hard I work for King and Country. I don’t tend to think of myself as promiscuous, but then compared to others in my life, Griffin for example, I’m a positive Casanova. Besides, I always take any negative reference to my sex life as jealousy over my success and general handsomeness.

My own Achilles Heel is migraines. These can come on mid-mission and are like having an invisible helmet clamped around my head, pressing down on it. It’s not a comfortable way of being and can continue for many hours. It makes me exceedingly grouchy.

I’ve tried the usual remedies, and none are effective. I believe they’re linked to how much pressure I’m under during a mission, or some other terrible situation, such as Christmas lunch with my family. Thankfully, these days I generally get to avoid that situation by going to White Orchards for the Christmas period (after all, the only reasonable excuse for not going home for Christmas is to be invited elsewhere).

One of the reasons I like working with Alice is that she makes me laugh. Laughter helps alleviate stress. Jack too, with his affection and companionship, calms me and I believe lessens my attacks. In my more charitable moments, I concede that by taking up some of the more annoying aspects of civilian life, such as cleaning, laundry, paying everyday bills, etc., Griffin does his part to remove some stress. I don’t include cooking in that list of helpful things as while he does do that, he still, and I do believe quite deliberately, makes me bad omelettes. What’s more, on a few occasions he’s committed a crime against steaks by overcooking them (any person who likes their steaks cooked more than medium-rare may as well eat shoe leather).

But there’s one kind of migraine I get that lays me low. It occurs when something truly dreadful has happened, if I’ve had to kill during a mission, or I learn of something that strikes me hard emotionally, and there’s nothing I can do about it, such a migraine may strike.

When it comes, it’s quite vile. It can literally strip me of my eyesight. Instead, all I see is multicoloured zig-zag lines dancing across my field of vision, and my head is lanced with  a sharp pain. It’s never happened during a mission. I rarely get such attacks - once or twice a year, but they are completely disarming.

Both Alice and Griffin have seen them. All I can do is lie in a darkened room and wait for the storm to pass. Jack’s company, lying on the bed with me, is most welcome. Of course, Alice’s company does too if she is here. Griffin, not so much. He can never resist giving me long, complex, medical descriptions of why the attack has happened, and tell me that all I need to do is relax when, in actual fact, it just makes me want to punch him in the face until he goes away.

Above all else, I must keep the attacks a secret from the department. I would be taken off field work at once if anyone knew. Alice will never reveal my secret, and I hope that with her and Jack’s help, my headaches will eventually lessen to the point that they disappear altogether.

Unlike Griffin. Griffin will likely never disappear. Sigh.