Norfolk, England
October 2015
Tired of playing the role
I can see that Shirley is talking because his lips are moving, but I can't hear a thing. Quickly, I hold up a hand to signal for him to give me a moment. When he nods and his lips stop moving, I switch on the microphone and speakers my laptop… and there he is!
"Better?" comes his voice, slightly distorted by the speaker of my not-exactly-new laptop.
I smile in confirmation. "Yes, I just needed to switch you on."
"How are you doing?" he asks. "You're not at home, are you?"
I turn to look at the bedroom behind me. It's decorated in that shabby country house look no-one but the English upper-class can pull off convincingly and it's miles from the clean, elegant lines of my South Kensington mews house.
"I'm at Sandringham," I reply with a shrug. "There's a thing today that I was invited to."
"Your life's weird," Shirley informs me matter-of-factly.
I grimace. He doesn't even know how right he is.
Of course, with Shirley being Shirley, my grimace doesn't escape him and he cocks an eyebrow in question. However, when I just shake my head, he shrugs to indicate that he has no intention to push the matter. Bless Shirley and his aversion to prying.
In fact, double-bless him, because he also changes the subject by asking, "Have you seen Kwame lately?"
Kwame is one of the older boys at the youth centre and I recently asked Shirley to look over some of his programming work. He's forever playing around with the elderly desktop computer at the centre in a way that reminded me of my teenager brother (just that Shirley had much better hardware available) and I spent a considerable amount of time convincing him to let Shirley look at something he did to assess whether it's promising.
"I saw him Thursday," I reply. "Did you have a chance to look at his… what do you call them? Those gibberish string of numbers?"
Shirley winces at my lack of proper vocabulary, but then bravely forges ahead despite my ignorance. "The kid's talented. Tell him he can get in touch with me if he wants to and we discuss his work further. And when he's done with school, I'll be happy to offer him a job."
"Really?" I raise both eyebrows in surprise.
"Maybe an internship first", Shirley amends. "But sure, if he does well… I'm always looking for good additions to the team."
"The team," I repeat, smiling slightly. "How large is the team at the moment?"
"A little over a dozen," replies Shirley and shrugs, clearly feeling a little uncomfortable now.
That makes me laugh. "And I live the weird life?" I tease.
"You do!" he insists. "You live in a palace and hobnob with royals. I just… do my job."
"You have your own company with your own employees in Silicon Valley," I point out, feeling more than a little proud. "You're doing great for yourself, little brother."
"We're hardly making any money yet," he tries to brush it off. "So far, investors seem to be fairly confident in us, but that can change any minute. It's a volatile environment. There are companies springing up and going bust every day. We don't all end up like Mark Zuckerberg. In fact, hardly anyone comes even close."
I shrug. "So what? I'm not saying it wouldn't be convenient, but no-one actually expects you to become a billionaire – and no-one wants you to become like Zuckerberg. There's absolutely no pressure. That said, we can agree you're doing well though, can't we?"
Shirley mumbles something and looks at a point somewhere beside the screen. Also… is it my crappy laptop screen or is he blushing?
"Come on, little brother," I prompt him, smiling. "It's okay to admit you're doing a great job. I mean, we were all a little worried about you that year when you wouldn't leave your room, or later, when you dropped out of college, but now… I mean, look at you! You're quite the entrepreneur and it's all your own doing!"
"I have help. The team is really great. It's not really like I'm their boss at all. We're just…" Shirley breaks off, looking for words. "We're all working together equally. We just try to get the best results we can and it doesn't matter that it was my idea originally or that it's technically my company."
No, it wouldn't. Shirley is the least status- and power-obsessed person I know. In fact, he's probably the person most uncomfortable with status and power I've ever come across. (Considering the world I now live in, there's something weirdly refreshing about that.) I have no trouble imagining him as the kind of boss who lets his employees do basically whatever they want – and considering I have a pretty good idea what type of employees he has, I actually expect them not to thrive under that type of laissez-faire leadership.
"You were never going to crack your whip over any person in your employ," I inform Shirley, grinning. "And of course you're getting help. That doesn't take away from your achievements though. We're proud of you."
Shirley pulls a face that makes him look like he bit into an especially sour lemon and I can't help laughing. He really, really doesn't do well with compliments, bless him.
"What about you?" he asks, a little helplessly. "How's your work?"
I know it wasn't his intent, but that wipes the smile right off my face. "It's… it's fine, I guess. Just, you know, normal. Nothing exciting happening, but it's… it's okay. I've got nothing to complain about."
Even on the grainy computer screen, I can see the scepticism in Shirley's expression, but once more, he doesn't pressure me to elaborate. (Which just shows he's a better person than me, because I certainly didn't give him the same consideration earlier.)
"It is fine," I repeat, though knowing very well that I'm not fooling anyone.
It's not like I suddenly started disliking my job. In fact, I was finally let out of the office two months ago and I'm enjoying being back out in the field and getting to supervise the events I planned on my own again. My colleagues also appreciate me no longer being holed up behind my desk anymore and thankfully went back to including me in their lunch plans as well. It's absolutely an improvement to my six months of internal exile and yet… compared to my little brother and what he achieved, it all falls curiously flat. He's building his own company and I'm organising birthday parties for snotty eight year olds whose parents have a lot of money and very little interest in their kids. I mean, it hardly compares, right?
Shirley makes a quiet noise that sounds somewhat dubious, but is still polite enough for me to ignore it. Changing tracks, he asks, "How's Ken doing? Did he settle back in well?"
I let my head hang for a moment, allowing my loose hair to fall into my face. If there's one subject I'm less enthusiastic to talk about than my job, it's my relationship.
Raising my head again after a moment, I do my best attempt at a smile. "Ken's fine. He came back two months ago, so… it's almost like he never went away."
Almost.
"Quite a feat to pull off," Shirley remarks thoughtfully. "To have the heir to the throne disappear for half a year without anyone noticing."
"The press was briefed," I reply, shrugging. "They pulled all relevant international media representatives together beforehand and had them agree to keep the secret. For all others, there was a smoke screen put up and then they just hoped no-one would ask too many questions or start to dig too deep."
"So they got lucky?" Shirley asks.
"Pretty much." I nod. "I think it played into their hands that Ken 'disappeared' before, first to New York and then to do his flight training in Scotland, not to mention his years of military training before that. The public was already used to not seeing him for extended periods of time."
Shirley inclines his head. "Makes sense."
Yes, so it does.
"What about you?" I want to know, not really caring to talk about myself or Ken any longer. "How are things with Kylie?"
"Ah…" Shirley squirms a little, which is not a Shirley-like thing to do. It's enough to get me to set my own life problems to the side for the time being and focus my attention on him.
"Are you two okay?" I ask, concerned. "I didn't talk to her a lot at Di's wedding, but she seemed like a sweet girl and I think she made you laugh."
"She was sweet," admits Shirley. "And she did make me laugh."
"But…?" I prompt.
Shirley lowers his head and pinches the bridge of his nose.
"Did she hurt you?" I demand to know, switching into the protective older sister-mode I honed on Persis and Teddy in recent times. "Because if she hurt you…" I leave the sentence dangling meaningfully.
At least that gets a weak smile from my brother. (It's curious, how quickly we went from me feeling uncomfortable to him being the one clearly wishing himself away.)
"Come one, Shirl," I encourage him, softening my voice. "Tell me what happened."
At first, I think he will refuse to answer, but then he shakes his head slightly and relents. "I liked her and it was fun for a while, until…" He pauses briefly, as if gathering his courage. "Until she asked whether I could get Prince Teddy's phone number for her. It was ostensibly so she could pass it along to a friend of hers, but…"
And just like that, we're back to the mess that is my life. Go figure.
"Oh Shirley," I sigh. "I'm… I don't know what to say. I'm so sorry."
"Not your fault," he rebuffs gruffly.
"Yes," I reply quietly. "Yes, it is."
My brother finally raises his head to look at me again. I almost expect him to reassure me and tell me it has nothing to do with me, but Shirley was never the person to look for when needing empty reassurances. And right he is, too, I guess. He's the one due some sympathy, not me. After all, it is all my fault, is it not?
"She knew who I was," Shirley points out and I know he's trying to rationalise the situation. "I reckon there's a chance she always had this in mind, right from when we first met."
I mutter an expletive. It feels easier, blaming Kylie than blaming myself for the mess.
"Yeah, pretty much," agrees Shirley and smiles wryly. I know he's putting on a brave face for both our benefit, but it still makes my heart ache.
"You know what really sucks about these video calls?" I ask impulsively. "You can't give anyone a hug when they deserve one!"
Shirley shakes his head, chuckling quietly. "I'll do fine with the virtual hug."
Of course. He never was one for being cuddled.
"Well, consider yourself hugged," I inform him briskly. "And if there's anything else I can do…"
"I don't think there is, but if I change my mind, I'll let you know," he assures me.
It's the best I'm likely to get from him and yet, it doesn't feel like it's enough. "I mean it," I insist. "If there's anything at all… You're all in this mess because of me and it's not like I don't know it. I just wish I could make it better again."
"There's nothing you can do," Shirley replies in his typically pragmatic way. "It is how it is."
I shake my head. "No! I mean… It's not right. Nothing about this is. Joy lost her job and so did Jem – though I admit that the timing wasn't so very bad for him, what with the baby and everything. You lost your girlfriend and while no-one said it as directly, the press intrusions played a role in Nan and Jerry breaking up. They certainly caused a hard enough time for Di throughout and then there was that time you were accused of drug use and they dragged Mum and Dad into it…" I swallow heavily. "The only one who escaped this unscathed so far is Walter."
Shirley makes a funny face.
"What?" I ask.
He looks away.
"What?" I repeat, more urgently.
There's little doubt from his expression how deeply uncomfortable Shirley feels with this entire situation, but he's not one to lie outright when asked and he doesn't have the social skills to cleverly wiggle out of a tight spot like this. Thus, when I stare at him through the camera and refuse to ease up the pressure, he finally admits, "He didn't want to tell you, but… they cancelled his mission."
I scrunch up my nose in confusion. "His mission?"
Shirley looks at me almost pleadingly, but despite the sympathy I feel, I can't let him off the hook now. Someone's not been telling me something and I need to know.
"He'd been training for a mission," Shirley answers hesitatingly when he realises there's no way out. "A real mission, with him as one of the agents in the field. He appeared in the background of some group shots of the family before, but the press never wrote much about him, so there was a feeling he'd be able to pull it off with a suitable disguise."
Briefly, I think back to the media coverage of my family. It's true that my sisters feature much more prominently than my brothers, because apparently, tearing women apart is still so much more fun than men. Jem got some attention because of his African adventure and his beautiful wife, while Shirley had the incident with the pot smoking and is more visible due to having his own company. Walter, on the other hand, has always flown under the radar a little – until now, it seems.
"What happened?" I want to know.
"There was a newspaper article a few months ago. I don't know if you saw it?" Shirley looks at me quizzically.
I sigh. "I probably should have, but… I stopped looking at the papers a long while ago. It just seemed easier than having to deal with all of their… drivel!" I spit out the last word.
"They get it right sometimes," my brother remarks. "They got it right when they mentioned in which building Walter works. It was some kind of tabloid magazine and they didn't even realise what they had, but for anyone in the know, it must have been clear which organisation he works for."
I groan. "Really?"
"Yeah, really." Shirley grimaces slightly. "Once that was done, there was no hope of Walter taking on any kind of undercover mission. They put him back to doing office work and that was that."
Yes. Just like that is always that. And I can't express how much I've come to detest it.
"He never told me. Why did he never tell me?" I ask Shirley.
He shifts uncomfortably. "I hate to speculate, so you better ask him that directly."
"Please?" I look at him imploringly.
More squirming, but again, Shirley can't seem to find a way to get out of the situation. "I think he just didn't want to upset you," he replies, keeping his eyes fixed on a spot somewhere to his left. "You were very quiet earlier this year and he figured something wasn't right. He didn't want to burden you."
"Just as you didn't want to burden me when Kylie turned out to be a –" I break off and shake my head. "Just as no-one ever wants to burden me, even though I'm the very reason all of these things happened in the first place."
There's no small amount of bitterness in my voice, matching the bitter taste on my lips.
Shirley opens his mouth, closes it again and settles on looking at me helplessly. Clearly, I've tortured him enough.
I procure a smile for him, though I know it is a weak one. "It's okay. I'm letting you go now."
The relief on his face is instantaneous. "I… I don't… I mean, if you want to keep talking…" he stutters.
"No, it's good," I assure him, the word being both true and not true at the very same time. Nothing about anything feels very good right now, except for the fact that I have a truly kind and remarkable little brother.
"I love you, Shirley," I blurt out, feeling a sudden rush of affection for him.
His stare turns horrified in an instant. "Are you… are you feeling well?"
I shake my head, laughing despite myself. "No, but it's fine," I tell him. "You can leave. I promise not to do anything crazy."
Shirley doesn't look convinced, his expression deeply dubious. But when I smile and wave at him, he slowly nods his head. "Are you sure?"
"Positive," I confirm. "Now, I have to get ready for my thing and I imagine you should have left for work a while ago." I pause briefly. "It was lovely to talk to you and I thank you for your honesty." Another pause. "Oh, and I'm sorry for being an annoying sister."
"You're forgiven," replies Shirley and shrugs. "It was, uh, nice talking to you, too."
"Liar," I tease gently. "And now, begone." I make a shooing motion with my hand.
My brother looks at me oddly and I can only begin to guess how weird he found this entire conversation, but he doesn't argue anymore. Instead, he briefly raises one hand in a wave, before I can see him reach forward to shut his laptop. When he does, my screen goes black. I push my own laptop away and unfold myself from the ancient, stuffy couch I've been sitting on.
As I start moving around the room, my footsteps must have alerted Ken, because moments later, there's a knock on the door. "Rilla?"
"Give me a minute," I call back.
Briefly, I check my reflection in the mirror and smooth out my skirt. I look perfectly respectable in a way that is tear-inducingly boring. My hair is in a knot, my feet are in sensible court shoes and the rest of me is in a soft green twinset with a matching darker skirt. I can hardly bear to look at myself.
Nodding business-like at the mirror reflection, I turn and head for the door. Ken waits in the hall outside, leaning against the wall. Upon seeing me, he offers me an arm to take, but I quickly turn my head and pretend not to have seen it, instead walking briskly ahead towards the stairs.
"Was that Shirley you talked to?" Ken asks as he falls into step beside me. "How's he doing?
"Actually, he's –" I break off.
He's not well. His girlfriend broke up with him because she only planned to use him to catch a prince. Oh, and Walter had a mission cancelled that he was supposed to go on, meaning he's now back to desk work and pretty much useless as a spy. That, of course, is on top of all the other problems suffered by the people I love just because we're together.
That's what I mean to say. That's what I want to say. Instead, I say, "He's well. He sends his regards."
I can feel Ken looking at me from the side, but keep my eyes resolutely ahead as we walk down the stairs.
"Remind me again of what kind of shinding this is?" I ask conversationally when he doesn't offer anything else.
"Hardly a shinding," remarks Ken, sounding vaguely amused.
I shrug, not turning. "This thing. Event. Whatever."
"It's a tea party, to be precise," he replies, "but of the kind where the tea is actually drunk and not dumped in a harbour."
He's trying to make me laugh and normally, he'd succeed, but today, I barely manage to raise a weak smile.
"Tea is nice," I remark, as if as a peace offering for not laughing at his joke.
"So it is," agrees Ken, now sounding resigned more than amused. "It's in informal group, invited by my parents. There will be family, friends of my parents, some deserving civil servants and maybe the odd charity representative. I'm sure there's an occasion for it as well, but I can't for the life of me remember which."
"Doesn't matter either way," I decide. "It's an afternoon of tea, mindless chitchat and hopefully some cake. Who really needs a reason for that?"
"You might be on to something there," Ken concedes.
We've almost reached the great salon of Sandringham House, when Ken lightly puts a hand on my arm to stop me. I look at him quizzically, cocking an eyebrow. He shifts from one foot to the other.
"Will you be alright in there?" he asks after a moment. "I can stay by your side if you want to and should somebody dare be unfriendly to you…"
He breaks off when I roll my eyes and slip out my arm from underneath his hand. "I'm a big girl, Kenneth," I inform him. "I can mingle with the best of them. There's really no need to hover, so… just get out of my hair, okay?"
I don't wait for him to reply, instead opening the door to the salon and stepping inside, leaving Ken to follow in my wake. The high-ceilinged, wood-heavy salon is already filled with a good number of people, drinking tea and eating cake and chatting, just as I predicted.
To prove to Ken that I really can mingle as well as anyone and am most certainly not in dire need of a babysitter, I leave him by the door and start moving around the room. There are some familiar faces I make sure to smile at (reserving an extra wide smile for Great-Aunt Tanya who toasts me with her tea cup), but also lots of people I'm sure I've never met. Whenever one of them takes note of me, I nod and smile in a way that would make both Grandmother Marilla and the designer of my aggressively sensible twinset exceedingly proud.
I've just made out a waiter with a tray of cakes and nibbles, when I hear a voice to my left, "Is she the girlfriend?"
I don't need to be a genius to know that the voice means me. Briefly, I consider my options and have almost settled on feigning deafness and moving on, when I spot Ken's Aunt Mary standing in the same circle of women as the one who just spoke. Slowly, I turn and when I'm facing them, my brain has already formulated a plan. (Just because the party and my outfit are terribly boring doesn't mean I can't have some fun.)
Plastering a wide smile on my face, I affect a broad American accent and tell the women, "Howdy! I'm Ken's American girlfriend. It's just so amazing to meet you!" I put enough emphasis and exaggeration into my voice so as to be utterly ridiculous.
One of the women looks at Aunt Mary for help. "Isn't she from Canada?" the woman whispers, but not nearly quiet enough for me not to hear.
"I'm from Canada, Tennessee," I answer before Aunt Mary has a chance. "It's a small town and a little off the beaten track. Come to think of it, that might explain why everyone there looks vaguely similar…"
The women exchange confused glances. Aunt Mary resolutely doesn't look at me, but I can see from the way her face has blanched that she'd love nothing more than to stuff a scone in my mouth to make me shut up.
"There was one factory in town, but it closed when production was relocated to Malaysia," I add, slowly getting into this little game. "They produced rubber –" here, I pause for effect and watch the faces of the women with some amusement, "– bands. They produced rubber bands."
There's a collective sigh of relief. Or, it would be collective, if Aunt Mary had joined into it. As it is, any kind of kind feeling seems to be the furthest thing from her mind. She's glaring at me and if looks were daggers, I'd be dead as the rubber band economy in Canada, Tennessee right now.
Normally, I'd look away, mumble an apology and shuffle off sideways, hoping not to have made Aunt Mary even more disappointed in me. It don't feel normal though, so I do exactly what I feel like doing instead. I look Aunt Mary straight into the yes, making sure to blink as little as possible, and start humming softly.
The night they drove Old Dixie down
And all the bells were ringing…
Aunt Mary huffs in indignation and turns away abruptly, stalking in the other direction with stiff movements.
I hide a satisfied little smile.
Taking my leave from the other women and making them promise to come to Canada, Tennessee next time they're stateside to try Cousin Mo's infamous explosive hot dogs, I saunter off in the exact other direction from Aunt Mary. As I do, I silently wish the women luck in finding a town named Canada on a map of Tennessee, but then rationalise that Tennessee was one of the later states and that in their understanding of the world, America still consists of 13 slightly recalcitrant colonies that insist on ruining perfectly good tea.
As if summoned by thoughts of the Boston Tea Party, Ken materialises by my side, obviously not having gotten the memo not to hover. "Are you alright?" he asks.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes again.
"I'm okay," I tell him, smiling at him the way Rose smiled at Cal when he ordered her lamb rare with very little mint sauce. "I just –"
I just had some fun with Aunt Mary and her girlfriends.
But for the second time today, I swallow the words I meant to say.
"Nothing," I reply instead, still with that sickly sweet smile. "Nothing at all. Everything's fine. Everything is absolutely fine."
The title of this chapter is taken from the song 'Lily, Rosemary and the Jack of Hearts' (written by Bob Dylan, released by him in 1975).
Important A/N:
I feel incredibly honoured and proud that after OriginalMcFishie's "Royal Correspondent", there's now another companion story for Twist out. DW.618 just posted the first chapter of her "Anne's Diary", which will chronicle Anne's thoughts and feelings as the events of Twist unfold. Myself being not very good at writing Anne, I'm super glad that someone much more talented at writing her is taking this on and I'm very curious to learn more about what Anne makes of all this. I'm certain that it will be a great addition to this universe and a great story on its own, so do check it out! I know it will be lots of fun!
