Take A Chance, Make A Change
i.
The phone rang twelve times. Then there was a brief, beautiful period of quiet before the ringing began again. This time the phone rang eighteen times before stopping. The third time, it didn't stop until a hand shot from beneath the exquisitely hand embroidered ivory bed linen for the receiver, and a distinctly unimpressed voice said something that might have been "Hello?"
"Good morning Your Majesty, this is your five o'clock wake-up call as requested."
"Charlotte." The voice was still muffled under the bed covers, but was a little more distinct.
"Yes, Your Majesty?"
"Do you or do you not recall our little talk about 'Your Majesty-ing' me first thing in the morning? I am not equipped for it. I realise I have been Queen of Genovia for a while now, but I'm still likely to forget you're talking to me"
"Yes, Your…I mean Mia."
"Thank you. Oh, also…"
"Yes?"
"'As Requested?' I requested a five o'clock wake-up call?"
"You did."
"When was this?"
"In your study yesterday afternoon while you were working through that stack of paperwork that's been sitting on the table by the door. I sympathised with you at the amount of work it entailed and you said…" There was a riffling of papers at the other end of the line, "…'Charlotte, how did I let this pile up? I'm going to have to get up super early tomorrow and blitz it before breakfast. But I will need bagels. And lots of coffee.'"
"That does sound like something I would say, wait a minute, do you take notes of all our conversations?"
"Erm…yes?"
"What, you record everything on a Dictaphone secreted in your blouse for later transcription?"
"No, I'm just pretty good at short-hand."
"That's why you're always writing!" Her Majesty Queen Amelia of Genovia sat bolt upright in bed, blinking sleep out of her eyes, "I thought you had a journal!"
"I think I take notes out of habit now, actually."
"Are you taking notes now?"
"Erm…"
Mia laughed. "I'll see you in a bit."
She replaced the receiver and sat back against the pillows. There was a knock on the door, and her maid came in with a tray of tea.
"Ana, did Charlotte have you pacing outside my room?"
Ana smiled. "Only for a few minutes, Your Highness. Shall I pour out?"
"Thank you, that would be lovely."
In the silence following Ana's departure and Charlotte's wake-up call, Mia sat back with her tea watching patches of light dance on the ceiling. She glanced at her bedside table, where a silver photo frame stood. She picked it up and laid it in her lap. Two people were sitting on the deck of a yacht, their arms around each other, a little boy in the man's lap. Instinctively, Mia's finger traced the smile on the man's face, and she turned to look at the empty bed next to her.
"Nick," she whispered, "Nick."
ii.
"Troy?"
"Mnnghghhhh"
"Troy…Troy, are you sleeping?"
"I was." Troy opened one eye, to see his wife sitting cross-legged on the bed next to him, a mug of tea in her hand. Rubbing his eyes, he propped himself on his elbows to look for his watch. "What time is it? Did I over-sleep? Are we late?"
Gabriella looked a little sheepish. "Erm, no, it's still quite early."
"How early?" Troy glanced at his wife, suddenly noticing the pale light in their bedroom, and the suspiciously quiet house.
"I'm not sure exactly, I think it was half five when I…"
"Half five? Gabs, you can't be serious, you…oh wait, yes," he said, finally discovering his watch hidden behind a pile of books, "Yes, I see you were, in fact serious. So was there a reason," he said, sitting up in bed and pushing his hair out of his eyes, "that you decided that we should be up at quarter to six in the morning? An hour of the day that even our daughters don't commonly see? Do you have any idea how much it disturbs me to be awake before the girls?"
"You're up before them all the time, Bolton, quit your whining. Now," she reached down and picked up another mug, "please accept this I'm-Sorry-I-Woke-You tea, and join me in getting excited about the first day of term."
"Ah. Yes, I'd forgotten this little Bolton Family ritual." He sipped his tea, and slid an arm round her shoulders. "Everything's ready, I think."
"After the last couple of weeks we've had, I should really hope so. Did you see the new drama studios when the cleaners had finished?"
"Yeah, they look terrific. Was everyone else impressed?"
"Are you kidding? I think half the drama department are planning on moving in."
Troy grinned and took another sip of tea. "Do you have a meeting scheduled to discuss the gala?"
Gabby nodded. "Yes, it's going to be after school this Friday. I know some of the staff think we're crazy trying to get the details sorted now for a gala that's not going to be held until Christmas, but I really think we need to get started."
"Absolutely. It won't sound like there's much to organise when we get it all down on paper, but I would bet major bucks that it'll start spiralling out of control mid-way through the term, and I for one do not want to get caught in the middle of another 'debate' between the drama and PE departments."
"Talking from experience there were we?" Gabby grinned over her mug. "I can't possibly imagine what you're thinking about. You're right though, it could all kick off between the departments if we don't get organised." She finished her tea, and slipped her feet back under the duvet. "I was thinking earlier when I was making the tea, I can't believe the school is five years old. That means it's six years since we moved out here. Six years! Does it seem that long to you?"
"In some ways, it does, I guess." Troy smiled as Gabby blinked sleepily, and slid his arm around her shoulders again. "Max was only four when we moved, and the girls weren't even a twinkle in your eye. When you think about what we've achieved, moving to another country with a four year old, setting up a school, watching it grow, having it outperform half the other schools in London, having twins…" He paused for a second, shaking his head slightly. "Six years doesn't really seem enough time to fit it all in. We've been pretty busy Mrs Bolton, it's no wonder we're always tired."
He glanced down as he finished speaking, and smiled to see her with her eyes closed. She stirred a little in the sudden quiet, and opened her eyes. "Mmmm…what…did you say something?"
"Nothing that can't wait." He moved the pillow behind his head to make them more comfortable, and as sleep overcame both of them once again, a breeze from the open window blew the curtains apart, drenching the room in early morning sunshine.
iii.
"I simply do not understand." Clarisse took a sip of her hot water and lemon, and looked at her great grandson with bemusement.
Chase shrugged. "I just don't want the fuss, Grandma."
"But…but." She turned to her husband, who was trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible behind the paper. "Joe. Tell him. Tell him it's ridiculous."
Joe put down the paper and sighed. "I remember his mother saying exactly the same thing."
"But that was different," Clarisse was now brandishing the butter knife to make her point. "When Mia was Charles's age, she didn't know anything about her heritage. He's grown up in a palace, for goodness sake. Charles, think of the dirt…"
"Grandma…"
"…and the grime…"
"Grandma, all I want…"
"…and the delays…"
"GRANDMA!"
Clarisse stopped, mid sentence, the butter knife still aloft. "Yes?"
Chase took a deep breath. "Grandma, I know that you're worried about me, and I know that you'd like to help me out today, but I really don't want the fuss. I'd really like to take the tube to school."
There was silence for a moment, and he sighed. There really was no way of talking to her sometimes. Turning to her once again, he opened his mouth to give her the next line of his carefully rehearsed plea, and found to his surprise that her eyes were full of tears.
"Grandma…why…"
Clarisse blinked hard, and took another sip from her tea cup. "It's nothing. You just looked awfully like your Father then."
"Oh." Chase looked down at his plate. "I'm sorry…I…"
"Chase," said Joe gently, putting down his paper again, "You must never feel you have to apologise for reminding people of your Father. He was a wonderful man, and will be very greatly missed, but it's good to talk about people we've lost. It helps."
"But what if it just hurts people?" Chase burst out. "I know I look like Dad, and people always used to say that we had the same laugh, and the same sense of humour. What if it makes people sad?"
"People like your mother?"
He nodded in his grandmother's direction, not quite meeting her eye. "She wouldn't tell me, but what if…"
"Charles." Clarisse put a hand out to her great grandson. "I promise you that she does not think that way. If anything, I think she takes tremendous comfort from the fact that although Nicholas has gone, you're still here. You're growing up to be just like him, and in my book," her voice wavered just a little, "that's the most important thing you can do for her."
"Now," she continued, "as for your request to spurn my lovely shiny, comfortable Bentley in favour of the vermin infested tunnels of the London Underground."
"Yes?"
Clarisse looked at the hopeful face across the breakfast table and sighed. "I would say that your mother would never forgive me for letting you do something so ridiculous, but then again, I remember the fuss she used to make about the cars I organised for her. You can take the Underground to school, but…" her words were drowned out by Chase's whoop, and the next second, he rounded the table, kissed her on the cheek and dashed from the room, skidding on the highly polished floor of the hall.
Joe looked after the departing form with a grin that disappeared the next minute as he met his wife's eye.
"He'll be fine, Clarisse. He's a sensible kid, and don't forget that Anders will be there all the time."
"That's true." At the mention of Chase's bodyguard, Clarisse relaxed a little. Anders had been protecting Chase since the first day of primary school in Genovia, and in the years that had intervened, the two had become firm friends. "When is he arriving?"
Joe checked his watch. "In half an hour. He'd have arrived in the car with Erik though, I'd better go and let them know of the change in plans." He got up and started towards the door.
"Joe," Clarisse caught his hand as he passed her seat. He stopped, and took both of her hands in his.
"Yes?"
"You will tell him to be careful, won't you? I'm sure he thinks I'm a nuisance, but…"
Joe smiled, and squeezed her hands. "He knows it's because you worry. But I'll tell him."
Upstairs in his bedroom, Chase switched on his computer, and almost immediately received an instant message from his friend Will.
L.Skywalker: So? Did you ask her?
RPSfan: Yup.
L.Skywalker: AND?
RPSfan: She's cool with it.
L.Skywalker: REALLY?
RPSfan: Er, no. But Joe was there, and he talked her round. Besides, it's not like Anders isn't going to be there.
L.Skywalker:Oh, right. I forgot Anders. How is he? Is he as cool as I remember him?
RPSfan:Yeah, he's fine. He'll be pleased you remember him being cool, but really, once you meet him again, you find out that he's just one big Battlestar Galactica-loving, Stephen King-reading nerd-boy.
L.Skywalker:Yes, with several guns and a bullet proof vest and an advanced knowledge of most martial arts. Wow, I haven't seen him for ages…
RPSfan:Haven't seen YOU for ages dude, it's going to be awesome to catch up.
L.Skywalker:Yeah, I know. I can't believe your Mum let you come to school in London. Not that I'm complaining, of course, we've managed to stay friends over MSN and very infrequent visits since we were 8, but it's going to be cool to go to school together. Why DID she choose this school, do you know? I mean, it's a great school, don't get me wrong, but there must be some pretty great ones in Genovia too, right?
RPSfan:That's pretty much exactly what Grandma said. Or what I could gather from Mum's end of the phone call. I think Mum and Dad always meant for me to take a break from Genovia at some point, and see a bit of the world, and then when Dad died, I guess it sort of shoved things along a bit faster.
L.Skywalker: Yeah, of course. How's your Mum doing?
RPSfan:OK, I think. It's been over a year since Dad died, and I guess we had a bit of time to get used to the idea of him being ill. It made it a bit easier in a way, I guess, but I know she still misses him a lot.
L.Skywalker:Will she be coming over to visit you? Mum was saying this morning that she'd love to see her.
RPSfan:She's pretty busy right now, but I'm sure she will if she can manage it.
L.Skywalker:Cool. So you and Anders'll both come round to mine on the way to the tube?
RPSfan:Yeah, I reckon we'll be with you at about 8:30. Will that leave us enough time to get there?
L.Skywalker:Yup, no problem, it's only a couple of tube stops from mine. See you in a bit then?
RPSfan: Yeah, see you.
L.Skywalker: LOGGED OFF
Chase was about to follow Will's example, when he received another instant message.
QueenM:Hi honey, glad I caught you before you left for school! Are you all set?
RPSfan: Mum! Hey, it's nice to…wait a minute…
QueenM: Yes?
RPSfan:It must be 9:00 in Genovia. Don't you have your morning briefing about now?
QueenM: Um…
RPSfan: Mum, are you on your Blackberry?
QueenM: Um…no?
RPSfan: You're MESSAGING ME from your morning briefing?
QueenM: Er…
RPSfan: MOTHER!!
QueenM:Honey, it's not like anything remotely interesting has happened yet, and I promise that as soon as something important happens, I shall go and lend it my full attention.
RPSfan:Don't you have, like, video phone calls to take, and declarations to sign?
QueenM:Seeing as you clearly imagine these morning briefings like the scenes in the Incident Room on The West Wing, I shall enlighten you. So far, we have heard from our monogrammed napkin supplier, and the Palace Gardener, who was called to report on the greenfly infestation in the orchard, which prompted the Prime Minister to tell us all, for about the fiftieth time, about his struggle with flies of all colours on his pear trees.
RPSfan: No video phones?
QueenM: I wish. Now, tell me. Are you all set for school this morning?
RPSfan:Yup, I think so, Grandma went through the list with me last night, and watched me put everything in my bag.
QueenM: I have no doubt. I take it she added a few things to the list?
RPSfan:Yes, mainly text books in French that were published shortly after the invention of the printing press. Although now that I've persuaded her to let me and Anders go to school on the tube with Will, I'm expecting there to be mosquito repellent, a torch and a ball of string waiting for me downstairs.
QueenM: Wait, WHAT?
RPSfan:Don't freak Mum, it'll be fine, Anders will be there the whole time, and it's only a couple of stops down the line.
QueenM:Who's freaking? I'm just impressed that you managed to pull it off! How on earth did you do it?
RPSfan:I'm not entirely sure, to be honest, I think Joe had a lot to do with it.
QueenM:Wow, good for Joe, I'll thank him surreptitiously when I phone later today. Oh, by the way, what's with the RPSfan thing?
RPSfan:They're a band I discovered the other day. RockPaperScissors. Kind of Coldplay-like, kind of U2ish, the lead singer sounds like that dude from Pearl Jam. You'd like them, I think. Mum, are you coming over to see us some time soon?
QueenM:Soon, honey, I hope really soon. I got Charlotte to go through the diary with me yesterday, and it looks like I am attending at least three incredibly tedious functions every week until Christmas, but hopefully, we can shuffle some of those around. Or at least arrange for me to attend some kind of incredibly tedious function in London…
RPSfan: Well, let me know. It'd be great to see you.
QueenM:I shall look forward to it, sweetheart. I hope you have a great day at school, say hi to Will and his parents for me, and I'll ring you tonight to hear how everything went, OK?
RPSfan: OK, speak to you later Mum, get back to the greenfly.
QueenM: You had to rub it in, didn't you? Bye sweetheart, I love you xxx
RPSfan: Love you too x
QueenM: LOGGED OFF
RPSfan: LOGGED OFF
Chase turned off his computer, shrugged into his jacket, and reached for his bag. Then, with one last look around the room to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything, he went downstairs, where he could hear Anders reassuring Clarisse about the number of martial arts he knew.