London, England
October 2014
There's diamonds and pearls in your hair
"How about this one? It might be a bit long for you, but you could have it shortened," suggests Di, holding up a navy sheath dress in front of the camera of her laptop.
"It's nice, but –" I attempt to interject.
Di doesn't listen. Instead, she leans to the side, thus disappearing from my screen for a few moments. When she returns, she's brandishing a summer coat in such a bright pink that I can't picture her ever wearing it. Even on the grainy computer screen, it clashes with her hair and I can't see it pairing much better with mine.
Looking from the coat to me and back to the coat, Di states after a short pause, "On second thought, maybe not. I'll give it to Nan." She tosses the coat aside, muttering, "I don't even think I ever wore it."
"Yes. But, Di –" I try again.
My sister whips up a green skirt with a geometric pattern. "Do you like this one?"
"It's lovely," I assure. "But what I was trying to say –"
"What about hats?" asks Di, suddenly balancing a grey cloche on her fingertips.
"Yes, it's very pretty," I tell her. "But I really need to –"
A dark purple blouse is dangled in front of me (well, in front of Di's computer camera). "You do wear purple, don't you?" she checks.
"I wear purple," I confirm. "But I –"
The purple blouse is replaced by a blue-striped top. This time, however, I have enough.
"Di!" I call out, loud enough to wake George, who raises his head and stares at me disdainfully.
The striped top disappears, to be replaced by my sister's face. (Is it just me or does she look a little sheepish?) "Yes?"
"Look, I don't want to sound ungrateful. It's incredibly nice of you to offer me all those clothes –" I begin.
"I'm not wearing them anyway and it makes no sense to lug them through the entire country," Di interjects. "Besides, I'm sure you can use them."
"But," I continue pointedly, ignoring her remark. "I have an invitation for tea in half an hour and I believe you wanted to talk to me about something?"
There's a moment of hesitation. "Maybe I just wanted to show you the clothes?" Di tries to deflect, though without sounding very convincing.
"Did you?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. (Next to me on the bed, George rolls over once and pointedly goes back to sleep.)
Another pause. "No," she finally admits with a sigh.
"Well, then. Shall we talk about it?" I encourage. "I promise not to bite."
Di grimaces. Whatever it is, it's clearly weighing on her.
She takes a deep breath, then – "Nia and I are getting married next summer."
Now I'm the one taking a deep breath. And another one.
"Please tell me you giving me all those clothes isn't related to that news," I blurt out.
Whatever Di expected, it wasn't that. She scrunches up her face in confusion. "I… I'm giving them away because I'm moving and I'm moving to Montreal because of Nia," she explains slowly. "She got a job with –"
"– with the Polytechnique Montréal, researching peaceful use of uranium," I finish. "And you're transferring to the St. Hyacinthe branch of the National Microbiology Laboratory to be close to her. I know that."
"She told you," Di surmises.
I shrug. "We're friends. We tell each other things."
"If you know about us moving in together, I don't understand –" begins Di.
I cut her off by shaking my head. "I just don't want you to think you had to, you know, give me stuff to mellow me out before telling me this."
"Oh!" Understandings lights up Di's face. "No, not at all. I just… I really want you to have these clothes and I… I guess I was stalling."
"Why?" I ask quietly.
Di frowns, looking as if she's ordering her thoughts. "Because Nia's your friend and you knew her first. You haven't been asking about her as much as you used to with my other girlfriends. Nia also said the two of you have mostly been talking about other things."
I nod slowly, unconsciously extending a hand to stroke George. He allows it, even starting to purr softly.
"I think it's… it's because I know both of you," I try to explain. "It's weird to talk with one about the other. Chatting with you about a previous girlfriend I didn't know well, or with Nia about her then-partners… it was different. I'm sorry it seemed like I wasn't supportive, because I am. I just… I think it's just a bit odd to talk to you separately about it because I have relationships to both of you independently. I support you, but I don't need the details."
"So… you're not mad about… me and her being together?" asks Di, hesitatingly.
(Has she really been worrying about this for all these months?)
"Di!" I exclaim. "Of course I'm not mad! I love you, I love Nia. If you're happy together, why would I not be happy about that as well?"
Di shrugs, looking slightly embarrassed. "I just… I wasn't sure."
"Well then, please be sure now," I tell her. "I've watched you search for your person for years and I've seen the frogs and… and the frogesses Nia had to kiss in the past. If you're each other's person, that's efficient for me. Two people happily off my list."
"You have a list?" asks my sister, veering between amusement and incredulity.
"Not a real list," I correct. (Since working through the guest lists for that double royal birthday party next month, I've developed a phobia of lists anyway.) "But I like the people I care about to be happy. If the two of you make each other happy, that's two birds with a stone for me."
Di raises both eyebrows, chuckling. "Much obliged."
I stick out my tongue at her.
"And you? Have you definitely found your person?" she asks, her expression curious.
Automatically, my gaze is drawn to the bedroom door. Somewhere behind it, I know Ken to be working through some intensely boring government material. "It would appear so," I tell Di, a small smile playing on my lips.
"Any chance of beating me to the altar?" teases Di.
Laughing, I shake my head. "There's no rush. Let's get you hitched first."
"Fine by me," agrees Di easily.
Next to me, I notice George raising his head. Moments later, there's a knock on the door and, when I call for him to enter, Ken sticks his head in. "Any idea how much longer you need?" he asks.
"Hey Ken!" calls out Di.
He laughs. "Hello, Di."
"We're done here," she continues, loud enough for him to hear. "You may kidnap Rilla now."
"It's hardly kidnapping." I scoff. "We're having tea with his ninety-year old great-aunt."
"Ninety-seven," amends Ken.
Di inclines her head, looking impressed. (I have to agree. It is impressive how active Great-Aunt Tanya still is at that age.)
"Either way, I think I will be fine," I decide. Turning back to Di, I ask, "We're fine, too?"
"Perfectly," she confirms with a nod.
"Good." I smile. "Just promise me that next time, you come to me sooner, alright?" With Ken still standing in the doorway, I don't specify what I mean, but I know Di understands.
She returns my smile. "I will."
I nod, satisfied. "That's what I wanted to hear. Now, please give Nia my love and make sure to send me those clothes at your earliest convenience."
Both Di and Ken start laughing. "Not greedy at all!" she declares. "Never," he agrees. I glare at them both. George, feeling disturbed, backs me up on this.
Still laughing, Di waves at me, before moving to shut her laptop, ending our call. I push my computer off my lap, swing my legs from the bed and give George a parting pat on the head. He blinks at me.
"What did Di want?" asks Ken, as we both leave the room to walk downstairs.
"She and Nia are getting married next summer," I answer casually.
He looks a bit surprised. "How long have they been dating?"
"Couple of month," I reply. Then, in a teasing tone, "Not everyone needs as long as we do to commit."
"Ah, but we're perfectly committed," he corrects, grinning. "Or is there anything you'd like to tell me?"
"Nothing you absolutely need to know," I deflect, wiggling my eyebrows at him.
Ken laughs and pulls me to him for a moment, almost causing me to lose my footing on the stairs. "Hey! Careful!" I protest.
"Sorry, sorry." But his grin means he doesn't look very sorry at all, so I do my best George impression and glare at him through narrowed eyes. His grin merely widens.
I turn up my nose at him and attempt to walk ahead, but he grabs my hand and refuses to let go. With no other option, I drag him with me towards the ground floor, not able to fight the smile on my lips.
"So," Ken remarks behind me, "Di and Nia getting married, huh?"
"As I just told you," I reply pointedly.
"Didn't Nia have a boyfriend back when you lived in New York?" he asks.
I stop dead in my tracks and pull my hand from his, almost causing him to stumble into me. With both hands on my hips, I turn to look at him incredulously. "The 1890s called," I inform him. "They'd like their outdated views on sexuality back."
Ken blinks, clearly confused for a moment, but then understanding shows on his face. Chuckling, he shakes his head. "Fair enough," he acknowledges. "It was a foolish question and I apologise for asking it."
"At least you see the errors of your ways," I praise him, patting his cheek. "And now, do be a good boy and drive me to see your great-aunt. We wouldn't want to leave her waiting."
"Aye, aye, Admiral Blythe." He salutes snappily, then grabs my hand back and leads me to the front door. I follow without overly much resistance, smiling to myself and reflecting that yes, I appear to have found my person alright.
Luckily, Great-Aunt Tanya seems to think so, too, having shown remarkable support for our relationship ever since I first met her in June. She's had us over for tea several times already and this time, she's hinted at having a surprise planned, which makes me ever more eager to get there punctually.
Great-Aunt Tanya lives in Marlborough House, which is a brick mansion on Pall Mall, close to Buckingham Palace. Right next to it is St James's Palace, which is still the official residence of the monarch, but these days only houses the offices and London apartments of Uncle Al and Aunt Mary. It's a fairly gloomy place, so it's no wonder they spend most of their time at their respective country homes. By far the nicest part of the St James's Palace complex is Clarence House, a detached light pink mansion that is used as a guest house and, if rumour is to be believed, is ear-marked for Leslie's widowhood. (It's a miserable thought.)
That time, however, is hopefully far in the future yet, and for now, Ken simply drives us past St James's Palace and Clarence House, pulling up in front of the gates of Marlborough House instead. The guard glances into our car and, upon recognising Ken, waves us inside quickly. The other car with Ken's PPOs follows us closely.
After exiting our car, we're met at the door of the house by Great-Aunt Tanya's butler, Mr Phong. He's the highest ranking member of her household and not only oversees all other staff, but has a close eye on, well, everything. I don't think anything at all happens in Marlborough House without Mr Phong knowing. Great-Aunt Tanya is certainly in good hands with him.
"Your Royal Highness," he greets with a respectful bow, "Miss Blythe."
"Good afternoon Mr Phong," replies Ken politely. "Is she in the drawing room?" (The 'she' in this being, of course, Great-Aunt Tanya.)
Mr Phong, surprisingly, shakes his head. "Her Royal Highness asked me to take you up to her rooms today. Tea will be served in her private sitting room."
I exchange a glance with Ken, raising my eyebrows in question and receiving nothing but a shrug in reply. This is not helpful! (Could it be tied to the surprise I was promised?)
With Mr Phong leading the way, we enter the main hall with its chessboard floor and its selection of vaguely martial-looking paintings depicting some war or another that I can't seem to remember. (Owen would be disappointed, I know.) From the hall, we walk up the carved wooden stairs to the first floor, before crossing a corridor to the southern end of the house. Finally, Mr Phong knocks at a door and, after a moment of pause, opens it for us to step inside.
I don't know what I expected Great-Aunt Tanya's sitting room to look like, but given how formal the downstairs are, I am a little surprised by how, well, home-y and normal it is. Of course, the furniture is still crazy expensive and very likely antique, but it has a lived-in feel that most rooms in royal residences lack. (For all the space they have, the royals generally seem to inhabit just a small number of rooms in any given place.)
Hanging on the wall and sitting on every available surface are dozens of photographs of smiling people. I spot several pictures of Ken and his siblings, while a wedding portrait of Owen and Leslies takes pride of place. (Every time I see it, I am reminded again that yes, her dress really was that awful and no, Owen did not suit that hairstyle at all.) A quick glance around the room reveals most people on the photos to somehow be related to Great-Aunt Tanya and, seeing them, I am suddenly wistfully reminded of Mrs Weisz. Somehow, I think she and Great-Aunt Tanya would have gotten along like a house on fire, if only they could have had a chance to meet.
Before I can get nostalgic about past memories or melancholic about lost opportunities, Great-Aunt Tanya puts a stop to that by getting up from her armchair by the fire and beaming at us. "Darling Kenneth! And my dear Rilla! You're so lovely to come and spend time with a boring old woman."
"We're only ever as old as we think we are, Great-Aunt Tanya," Ken points out as he bends down to kiss her cheek.
"And I'm sure you never knew how to be boring to begin with," I add, stepping forward to offer my own greetings.
"Clever girl!" declares Great-Aunt Tanya, clearly delighted by my assessment, and pats my cheek approvingly.
There's a knock on the door and moments later, a maid wheels in a serving trolley loaded with everything needed for a scrumptious afternoon tea. At home, 'tea' rarely meant more than just the drink but living among English royals as I do, I've come to really appreciate this more elaborate version. Seeing as I skipped lunch today, I can already feel my mouth watering at the thought of cakes and scones and sandwiches, but Great-Aunt Tanya seems to have other ideas.
"We will take tea in half an hour, Eulalia," she tells the maid.
"As you wish, Ma'am," replies Eulalia and retreats from the room, taking the serving trolley with her. My stomach grumbles in protest.
Great-Aunt Tanya doesn't seem to have heard it (even with her hearing aid, some things slip past her), but Ken grins teasingly. I grimace at him most frightfully behind his aunt's back.
"So, Rilla-dear," Great-Aunt Tanya asks, "do you have a dress for the birthday next month?"
"I do, actually," I answer, tearing my longing gaze away from the closed door. "Tatty de Duras lend me a vintage dress from her grandmother Isadora."
Great-Aunt Tanya smiles. "Ah, darling Lolly, bless her soul! She was a dear friend of mine."
(Looks like those two families go way back.)
"Why did you call her Lolly?" I wonder. "Because it rhymes with Rolly?"
Next to me, Ken chuckles.
"Good Heavens, no!" Great-Aunt Tanya looks amused. "We called her Lolly long before Rolly was born. She was very mad at everyone when they started calling him that. She was glad he wasn't a daughter because she was afraid of a daughter of hers being called Polly, but her husband named him Rolly before she could intervene and…" She shrugs daintily.
Poor Lolly.
"But how did you go from Isadora to, well, Lolly?" I ask, still not having understood it.
Great-Aunt Tanya nods briskly. "Of course. Some thought it was because she was always lolling around at parties in her youth, but it was really short for 'eloquent'. She was such a bright, dazzling creature." Her gaze becomes a little nostalgic. "Ah, what fun the two of us had before the war! And she had such style. It will be lovely to see one of her old dresses worn again."
"It's a beautiful dress," I confirm eagerly, mentally picturing the dress I chose during a very fun afternoon spent with Tatty and Katie. It's a slinky silk dress in the style of the late 1930s, its colour the darkest of purples.
"Do you have jewellery to go with it?" Great-Aunt Tanya wants to know, watching me with a curious, almost calculating expression.
I frown. "Um… I just thought I'd put on a sparkly pair of earrings or something."
"Nonsense! A dress like that calls for proper jewellery as, I'm sure, Lolly would agree," declares Great-Aunt Tanya. "Luckily, I have prepared something. Follow me, please!"
She marches off with surprising agility towards a door I hadn't noticed before. I hesitate, looking at Ken for guidance, but he just shrugs and motions for me to follow his aunt, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
The adjoining room is what appears to be a dressing room, with a large wardrobe, a cushy sofa and an intricately carved vanity table. My attention, however, is drawn to two birds sitting on their pedestals.
"Good morning!" pipes up the white one. "Good morning, good morning!"
Great-Aunt Tanya laughs. "Silly Cricket! It's afternoon." She holds out a finger to the bird who nips it affectionately.
"Afternoon," he croaks. "Afternoon."
"There's a good boy," praises Great-Aunt Tanya and pats his head. Turning to me, she introduces, "This is Cricket. He is a cockatoo. He belonged to my second husband, God bless him, but he always liked me better. Isn't that right, darling?"
"Darling, darling," repeats Cricket.
"And here," Great-Aunt Tanya points at the green parrot, "we have Gilbert, a Diademed Amazon Parrot."
Gilbert?
I almost choke in my attempt not to laugh. I must tell Dad about this!
"He was Lolly's, bless her soul," continues Great-Aunt Tanya, oblivious to how I'm straining not to burst out laughing. "His companion, Sullivan, died not long after poor, dear Lolly did, so Cricket and I took Gilbert in. Didn't we, Cricket?"
"Cricket, Cricket," agrees the cockatoo, nodding his yellow-crested head up and down.
Great-Aunt Tanya gives both birds a pat, before bustling over to the other side of the room without further explanation and sorting through several boxes stacked there. Seeing as she seems busy, I take a tentative step towards the birds. "Hello," I greet them.
"Hello, hello!" replies Cricket happily.
Gilbert (Gilbert!), meanwhile, starts marching up and down his pedestal, whistling a jaunty tune. It sounds vaguely familiar, but…
"Colonel Boogey March," Ken remarks quietly from behind me. "It features in The Bridge on the River Kwai. Remember?"
Ken, it must be said, has a thing for old-ish movies and shows set in wartime that can, on occasion, be somewhat tiring. We're about halfway through M*A*S*H at the moment, though in its defence, at least that one is amusing.
"I remember," I confirm, even as Gilbert the Parrot launches into Sur le Pont d'Avignon.
"Gilbert and Sullivan sang many pleasing duets in their day," explains Great-Aunt Tanya, appearing at my side. "Lolly had a bridge-theme for them."
Evidently.
"But enough of this," declares Great-Aunt Tanya as she takes my arm and leads me over to the vanity. "Please, sit."
Somewhat confused, but knowing better than to disobey Great-Aunt Tanya, I take a seat, staring at my face in the ornate mirror. Great-Aunt Tanya turns to rummage through a box and I look at Ken, who smiles reassuringly. (I have a feeling he has an idea what his aunt is up to and is enjoying this a little too much.)
Suddenly, I feel a heavy weight being placed on my head. When my eyes snap back to the mirror, I am confronted with a wall of diamonds sparkling back at me.
"This is called a kokoshnik. It was my great-grandmother's tiara," declares Great-Aunt Tanya brightly. "Empress Marie of Russia. She brought it to exile with her and left it to me in her will."
Uh…
The sparkly wall of diamonds is taken from my head, to be replaced by another tiara that has large diamond swirls, dangling diamond drops and sapphires the size of quail's eggs.
"The Sapphire Wave Tiara. It was given to my mother on occasion of her marriage by my great-grandmother," explains Great-Aunt Tanya, clearly unaware of my speechlessness. "After my mother's death, it was decided I would inherit her jewels, seeing as Alice was set to get those of the British Crown."
Um…
Great-Aunt Tanya adjusts the tiara slightly and smiles at me in the mirror. "Do you like it?" she asks.
"It… it… it's…" I croak, in marked resemblance to Cricket the Cockatoo. "It's, uh, beautiful."
"Quite right," agrees Great-Aunt Tanya blithely.
She takes the sapphire tiara away again, instead selecting an intricate all-diamond piece that has stones at least as large as my irises. It settles heavily on my head. (How much do these things weigh?) "The Lily of the Valley tiara," she announces. "It belonged to my grandmother, Empress Alexandra."
Uh-huh.
Right.
Great-Aunt Tanya considers me thoughtfully in the mirror. "It might be a bit large for the first time, but how about…" She trails off, putting the Lily of the Valley tiara aside and pulling up another box instead.
From it, she produces a half-moon shaped tiara of small diamonds and large, rectangular light blue stones that she places on my head. "The Aquamarine Kokoshnik Tiara. It was gift from my grandmother to my mother to celebrate her engagement."
I stare in the mirror, taking in the brightly sparkling diamonds and the mutely shimmering aquamarines on my head. On my head. I have no idea what to say, not even what to think. It's surreal! It's… it's…
"It's lovely!" Great-Aunt Tanya claps her hands. "Your hair brings out the colour of the stones better than mine ever did. Oh, it suits you so well!"
"It does," comes Ken's relaxed voice from behind her.
I whip my head around to look at him, almost dislodging the tiara. Great-Aunt Tanya tuts at me and carefully rightens it again. I, meanwhile, make eye contact with Ken, trying to urgently communicate to him that – well, I don't fully know what I'm trying to communicate to him, but I think he could jolly well figure it out!
He, however, just grins at me. He's lounging on the sofa like he doesn't have a care in the world, clearly amused by the spectacle in front of him. It's infuriating!
"It does suit you," he remarks, raising his hands as if to indicate he can't be faulted for speaking what he perceives to be an apparent truth.
"But… but…" I protest. "But…"
"But! But, but, but!" parrots Cricket happily. Gilbert, thus woken from what looks to have been a slumber, jolts upright and immediately starts whistling Bridge Over Troubled Water.
Staring uncomprehendingly at all three of them, I give it up for a lost cause. Instead, I slowly turn back to the mirror, to find my bewildered image looking back at me. She's still wearing the tiara, this mirror-me, and when I do my best to ignore the weight of the stones and metal on my own head and focus instead on the women in the mirror, I find myself agreeing that yes, it doesn't look half bad. In fact, I might even have to admit that… that the tiara suits her, this woman in the mirror.
Very gingerly, I raise my hand and touch the metal frame. (Silver? Platinum?) It feels cool under my fingertips and when I let them wander, so do the stones.
"Wonderful," declares Great-Aunt Tanya happily, clasping her hands in front of her.
It is. I mean, it looks wonderful. Beautiful even. But… I mean, I couldn't possibly –
"You look gorgeous," Ken tells me as he comes up behind me and places both hands on my shoulders. When his eyes meet mine in the mirror, I can see that while he's still smiling, his expression is more earnest now.
I'd be lying if I claimed not to be pleased. I like looking pretty for him, with or without a priceless jewel on my head (on my head!), but…
"However," Ken continues, now looking at his aunt. "I think it might not be the right time for this yet."
Our eyes lock in the mirror and when I nod slightly, he gently lifts the tiara from my head. As he does, the metaphorical weight lifts from my shoulder, just as the very real weight is lifted from my head.
It is a beautiful jewel, no argument. But it's also not the time for me to be wearing it.
Taking a deep breath, I dare to look over at Great-Aunt Tanya, who looks slightly disappointed. "Unmarried women used to wear tiaras all the time," she murmurs, sounding almost rebellious (and missing the point entirely).
She takes the tiara from Ken and carefully places it in its box. When she turns back to us, her face has brightened again.
"We will not let him spoil our fun, dearest," she informs me briskly. "I have many other jewels. We will find earrings for you and a necklace and maybe a brooch to wear in your hair… I have a lovely rose brooch that will look lovely on you!" She claps her hands, delighted at the thought. "Ah, you will be the belle of the ball! Just you trust Aunt Tanya."
"Aunt Tanya!" croaks Cricket "Aunt Tanya!"
"Naughty boy," she chides him as she bustles past him (I can't get over how mobile she is at her age!) and out of the room, presumably to procure the spoken-of brooch.
Ken and I stay back, silence settling between us for a moment. I watch in the mirror as Ken leans over to the boxes of tiaras, pulling closer one that Great-Aunt Tanya didn't open. "Diamond Kunzite Tiara," he reads from a label on the top. "Belonged to Empress Alexandra."
But of course it did!
Opening the box, Ken lifts up a delicately-wrought tiara of diamonds and large pink-ish stones. Stepping back to stand behind me, he lets it hover above my head, not quite touching my hairline. "You do suit them," he remarks casually, surveying me in the mirror.
…
…
What am I supposed to say to that?
If there is something to say, I can't think of it. I'm left opening and closing my mouth like a fish, looking foolish enough that even the priceless jewel over my head can't alleviate it. Ken doesn't seem inclined to say anything else either, so the silences stretches until –
Until, behind us, Gilbert the Parrot cheerfully launches into the unmistakable tune of London Bridge is Falling Down.
Build it up with gold and silver,
Gold and silver, gold and silver.
Build it up with gold and silver,
My fair lady.
Indeed.
I meet Ken's eyes in the mirror, there's a beat – and we both burst out laughing.
The title of this chapter is taken from the song 'Where Do You Go To (My Lovely)?' (written by Peter Sarstedt, released by him in 1969).
To AnneShirley:
Ah, yes, I know there were a lot of horse-y bits in the last two chapters. I promise we're not turning this into a horse girl story though, so no-one needs to up their equine knowledge to understand it ;). I'm glad to hear you enjoyed the chapters (anyway?) and am looking forward to your thoughts whenever your wifi allows. In the meantime, you sent me down memory lane with your mention of Nokias and Snake. As for so many, my first phone was a Nokia 3310 (later updated to a 3330) and it kind of amuses me to remember how I thought it the height of modern technology back then. Those were the days, right?
To KindofaKindred:
First of all, allow me to welcome you to my story =). I'm glad you discovered it and hope you're enjoying it! If you like, I'd love to hear from you again in the future.
I'm assuming that with regards to "Dowager Countess", we're both talking about Downton Abbey, yes? Generation-wise, Great-Aunt Tanya is more in one bracket with George Crawley and his contemporaries than with the Dowager Countess, but since we're about 80-90 years later, you're right that she fulfils a similar role in my story as the Dowager Countess does in Downton Abbey. Though since I only ever saw the show in German, I can safely claim to have come up with the "don't be defeatist, dear" quip without any Downton influence ;).
Of course, this chapter included a lot more Great-Aunt Tanya than before, so I'd love to hear what you thought of her here!
To White:
I don't know how far you've read by now and I didn't know quite where to put my reply to your review, so I hope you see this here :). It would be great if you could let me know when you've seen it.
Before I go into details, please allow me to welcome you to my story as well. I was very happy to receive your review and would love to hear from you again. I also hope you will continue to enjoy the story!
Now, as for your question, I'm really perfectly relaxed with you imagining Ken as you want to. But if you're interested in my mental image of him, I picture him as tall, dark-haired and handsome, to the point of being maybe sometimes too good-looking. I don't have real life models for my characters, but if you'd like me to point you in a general direction, think a young Alain Delon or a young Jack Kerouac (or, if we're being more modern, someone a bit like Henry Cavill). I hope this helps!
