London, England
April 2016
On with the show
I place a folder on the table and take my seat, before looking at the assembled group of people. "Alright. What have we got today?"
Elphinestone, sitting to my right, clears his throat and opens his own folder. "We have to decide what to do with the family's upcoming engagements."
He pushes a sheet of paper towards me and when I take a quick look, I recognise it as a densely printed list of royal engagement for the next few days. "We cancel or postpone anything that isn't urgent and choose who to send as replacement to those events that require a royal presence," I decide while passing along the list to Oliver on my left. "Anything that is just meetings or behind the scenes stuff gets pushed. We only send replacements to public engagements."
Further down the table, a woman named Harley raises her hand. She belongs to Leslie's staff, I think. "Excuse me, Miss?"
I nod to encourage her to speak.
"I just got off the phone with the children's violin charity that was on Her Majesty's schedule," Harley elaborates. "They feel that having Princess Katherine attend instead does not adequately reflect the importance of having their new headquarters opened."
I take a deep breath and refrain from pointing out that I'm surprised that a children's violin charity is big enough to need new headquarters at all. Instead, I reply briskly, "Unfortunately, Princess Katherine is the best we can do right now. Unless they want to postpone their opening for an as yet indeterminable time, they can either have Her Royal Highness attend or do without a royal family member at all."
Harley scribbles something down. "I will tell them so."
"Good, thank you." I let my gaze drift from Harley to the others people gathered around the table. "What else?"
Next to me, Oliver looks up from the list, on which he's been highlighting parts in bright yellow marker. "I've marked some event that I think we should pass on to members outside the main family. The others can wait until a later date, I think."
I accept the list back from him and quickly glance at the events that he highlighted. "Right, let me see… Prince Christopher can open the new exhibition at the London College of Fashion… The Countess of Eltham will dedicate that war memorial… as the highest-ranking royals currently in the mix, The Duke and Duchess of Hereford can go commemorate the 500th anniversary of Royal Mail… The Duke will also enjoy handing out prizes at the London Marathon and The Duchess might like opening the Vogue exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery … hmm, no, we're not sending anyone all the way to Northern Ireland right now, so Belfast University will have to do without royal presence… but The Countess of Eltham will definitely want to go to the ANZAC Day Dawn Service and we can send Princess Katherine to open the new mental health hospital… oh, and the church service to celebrate Shakespeare could be a decent fit for Prince Christopher. Does that cover it?" I look up at Oliver questioningly.
The woman sitting next to Oliver (who is called Bates and fills the important position of treasurer to Owen) leans over and points at three further entries on the list. "I think we should have someone inspect the restoration work at Canada House, maybe send someone up to Newbury for that concert and then there's the tea reception for various bishops next week."
"Hmm…" I tap my pen against my chin thoughtfully. "Have The Countess of Eltham go to Canada House and The Duke and Duchess of Hereford to the concert… and Princess Tatiana can take over the tea reception."
I'm not quite sure Great-Aunt Tanya didn't secretly start leaning towards Orthodoxy in old age, but nearly a century as a British royal princess means she can talk Anglicanism with the best of them. Plus, a bunch of middle-aged bishops can't hold a candle to her anyway.
Oliver jots down my last suggestions. "Okay, that's it, I think. We'll reschedule or cancel the rest."
"Don't schedule anything for earlier than summer," I remind him. "If you have to, cut down the August holidays for a week or two to make everything fit."
"Noted." He nods, still bend over his notebook.
I turn to my right and look at Elphinestone. "What else?"
With a slight motion of his hand, he passes the question on to the dozen of people sitting at the table with us. Immediately, a man named Thomas from Owen's team speaks up, "We need to make a decision about Trooping the Colour soon."
"No, we don't. For the time being, we want plans to continue as normal," I tell him. "It's still over a month until Trooping and a lot can happen until then. And should it become necessary, it's easier to cancel it later on than having to scramble to organise everything at the last minute because we dropped the ball earlier."
Thomas lowers his head, looking slightly chastised, though that wasn't my intention. I just don't want to take too far-reaching decisions right at this point when everything is still so unclear. No-one can predict what'll happen next week, not to mention in June!
Weatherfield, Elphinestone's deputy, nods importantly. "We definitely shouldn't rush anything."
I just refrain from rolling my eyes. Considering how dismissive he was of me just a few short months ago, Weatherfield is suddenly falling over himself to agree with me. It's as obvious as it's disconcerting.
On the other side of the table, Arlene, Ken's communications secretary, raises her head from where she's been checking something on her phone. "I'm afraid I have something we need to respond to."
"What would that be?" Tennant wants to know. As Leslie's private secretary, she's one of the highest-ranking staff members at the table, but I've gotten to know her as a fairly reserved person who doesn't butt in often.
"There is a rumour floating that preparations for a transfer of power are underway," Arlene elaborates.
"A transfer of power?" repeats a man from Owen's communications team, whom I believe to be named Hobbs.
"A regency, at the very least" explains Arlene.
I feel my insides clench painfully. "Deny it, please," I ask Arlene, taking care to make my voice sound even.
The man named Hobbs frowns. "But I'm pretty sure I saw plans for a regency being drawn up."
I grip my pen a little tighter. "Of course you did" I inform Hobbs. "I should hope that we have plans for… for a regency and even a full transfer of power, including… everything it entails. We just won't admit it that we do."
"Why not?" questions Hobbs. (He must be new, bless him.)
"Positive thinking," answers Oliver for me. Hobbs, however, still looks confused.
"Oliver is right. We need to project certainty and a positive outlook," agrees Elphinestone.
Hobbs scratches his ear. "Why?"
"Because we can't have the public get nervous," I explain to him. "We need to be prepared for all eventualities, but if the public knows about any contingency plans we have, they will think we don't expect His Majesty to make a recovery and that is not something we want at this point." Mentally, I congratulate myself for how sure my voice sounds when the very thought of Owen not making a recovery makes me feel sick to my stomach.
Ignoring Hobbs and his still befuddled expression, I turn to Elphinestone. "I think we should make sure that all necessary plans are drawn up. Please ensure that relevant government representatives are consulted as and when appropriate, but do it all quietly. To anyone on the outside, I want it to be known that we're confident that things will go back to normal soon and that no long-term action will be necessary."
"I will make sure of it," Elphinestone assures me, nodding to show that he agrees with my suggestions. "We will have preliminary drafts ready by tomorrow afternoon."
I nod and breathe in deeply, trying to squelch the pain bubbling beneath my skin. What I can't tell them, of course, is that it's not just the public's reaction I'm worried about, it's what Owen's family will say if they find out that there are plans being drawn up for a regency, for an ascension to power and, yes, even for a funeral. It's necessary, but it hurts and I know none of them would react well to it.
"Excuse me," pipes up a girl who's standing near the back of the room. She is around my age, didn't get a seat at the table and I can't recall seeing her before, so I imagine she's assistant level only. When everyone turns to look at her, she blushes slightly.
"Yes?" I ask, hoping to sound encouraging.
The girl seems to gather all her courage before speaking. "I'm just wondering… how… how is His Majesty? Is he feeling better?"
I shake my head. "His condition is unchanged."
"Oh, okay." The girl lowers her head slightly. "And the family? Are they doing okay?"
"As well as can be expected," I answer, choosing my words carefully.
The girl nods quickly. "Of course. I didn't mean to pry. I just…" She trails off, looking uncomfortable.
Elphinestone easily steps him to save her. "Certainly, Miss Gates. I'm sure Miss Blythe will relay our best wishes to the family."
"Absolutely," I agree. "I'm sure they will be pleased."
Actually, I'm not sure most of them will even care in their current state, but I can't tell that to the staff, no matter how dedicated they are. Some things just have to remain in the family.
"Is that all for today or is there anything else we need to discuss?" I ask, looking from one to the other, clearly indicating that I'd like this meeting to be over now.
They all catch the hint, too, so instead of bringing up new problems, they just murmur and shake their head. I muster up a smile. "Excellent. Thank you all for your great service. We'll speak again tomorrow."
Gathering up my folder and nodding at Elphinestone, Tennant and Oliver, I scrape my chair back and make my way for the door. Only when it is firmly closed between me and the staff do I allow myself to relax.
I know how I came to be chairing these meetings (it happened when, on my first day back in England, I left Ken's room to find all three private secretaries waiting for me and Elphinestone professing his relief at my presence) and I can even make a decent guess regarding why this questionable honour fell to me (the meetings often call for decisions to be made about various royals that the staff feels uncomfortable making and while I'm not equipped to decide it either, I'm the closest thing to a family member they can currently get their hands on), but that doesn't mean I'm used to them. Sitting in that chair at the head of the table, I regularly summon all calm and authority I can muster and I appear to be doing a decent job at fooling them, but that doesn't mean I ever stop feeling like an imposter. That chair rightfully belongs to Owen and I'm but a poor replacement.
Of course, I'm only covering a very small part of Owen's duties and even that only rudimentarily. I firmly stay away from political or governmental matters and defer all important decisions to Ken and Teddy. What I can do, however, is to run interference and that's mostly what I'm attempting to do in those meetings. We're all in crisis mode and there simply needs to be someone to coordinate the different households and make sure they present a united front to the public. I still don't feel I'm very well-equipped to be that person, but it was Ken's idea that I sit in on meetings on my own and Teddy eagerly agreed. I reckon that neither can stomach the thought of attending meetings with two dozen people staring at them, so I agreed and I'm doing what I can.
Luckily, in my years of living in the royal orbit, I seem to have picked up some knowledge, as if by osmosis. I know most of the staff, I know how the press ticks, I know what the public wants and I even have a pretty good idea of what Owen would do most of the time. It's really the one question I keep asking myself. What would Owen do? (And then, inevitably, I have to do my best to ignore the pang I feel at the reminder that right now, Owen can't do anything.)
At least in chairing these meetings, I can be useful to the family when otherwise, I feel like I'm not doing much good. I'm trying to be there for them, of course, and to support them and do whatever it takes to make this easier, but I don't think I'm achieving much at all. If I'm but a poor replacement for Owen when it comes to meetings, I'm no replacement for him at all when it comes to the well-being of his family. Without him, they are just… lost.
Shaking my head slightly, I climb the stairs leading to the private apartments. I consider checking on Ken, but then make my way to Leslie's rooms first. Knocking softly on the door to her drawing room, I wait until I hear Teddy's voice calling for me to enter.
Slipping through the door, I quickly take in the situation in front of me. Leslie sits in her customary chair by the window, staring absently ahead. Teddy is on a sofa not far from her, a book on his knees. Only he looks at me as I close the door and move further into the room.
"Hello," I greet them.
My voice seems to get through the haze surrounding Leslie, but only to a point. She slowly turns her head to look at me and smiles vaguely, but doesn't say anything in return. I'm not even sure she recognised me, to be honest. Moments later, she resumes her vacant stare at the garden below, quite as if I hadn't come in at all.
Teddy sighs. "Hello, Rilla." He shuts the book and places it on a side table, before getting up from the sofa and waving for me to follow him out of the room. As we exit it, a lady-in-waiting steps past us to take up the vacated seat on the sofa and keep an eye on Leslie.
We always make sure someone sits with Leslie at all times. Her ladies-in-waiting are a sure option to fall back on, but in addition to her children and me, Aunt Caroline and Great-Aunt Tanya are over regularly and Genie comes by every other day to sit with Leslie and do whatever else she can. As bad luck would have it, Tatty and Mark, who would otherwise have been sure to help out with this entire situation, left for a month-long trip to India just days before Owen's collapse. They offered to come back, but I told them not to be ridiculous.
Having left Leslie's room, Teddy and I don't talk immediately, not out here in the hall, because in a palace, the very walls have ears. Instead, by unspoken agreement, we enter yet another drawing room that's a few doors down from Leslie's private one and open for use by the entire family. It's a little unpersonal, but at least it's private.
"How is she today?" I ask once the door is safely closed.
Teddy grimaces. "The same as yesterday and the day before."
In other words, not good.
"It's like she's not even really there," Teddy continues, frustrated. "I talk to her, I read to her, I try to get her to play games with me, but she just sits there and smiles that creepy smile. I have no idea what kind of world she's even in, but it's certainly not this one!"
Leslie, it turned out, deals with her husband's illness by not dealing with it at all. Even before I arrived from Canada, she withdrew into a world just her own and has stayed there since. It's a place where no-one can follow and no-one can call her back from. I understand it's her mind protecting itself from pain that's too much too bear (which Nan explained to me at length during a late night call some days ago), but I also understand Teddy's frustration.
"Has she said anything at all?" I ask him.
He shakes his head, locking despondent. "Not since…" He trails off, but I know the answer. Leslie hasn't said a single word since Owen was admitted to hospital and of course, today is no different.
"I just feel like I'm failing her," Teddy adds, pain flashing across his face. "I feel like I should find a way to make her get better, but I tried everything I can think of and nothing works!"
"You're doing great with her," I assure him. "There's no magic trick that will make her get better and it's certainly not your fault that she is as sad as she is. The only thing you can do is be there for her and spend time with her. She might not notice now, but I'm sure when she's better, she will appreciate it."
What I don't say is that there's no guarantee that Leslie will get better at all. Of course, the magic trick to Leslie recovering is Owen recovering and that's far from a done deal. If he doesn't rally…
"Thanks." Teddy smiles wanly. "It's nice of you to say that."
Putting both hands on his shoulders, I turn him to look at me. "You're doing really well, Ted. This is… this is incredibly hard for everyone. You're doing the best you can and that's an awful lot."
"You're doing more," he immediately counters. "You're taking all these meetings and making all those decisions…"
"He's not my dad," I tell him quietly, dropping my hands.
Teddy shrugs. "Might as well be. He always adored you."
I try and fail to procure a smile, all the while hoping to keep my own emotions in check. The last thing Teddy needs is for me to start blubbering all over him.
"Did you go see him today?" I ask, hoping to bring us on more stable ground.
"I was at the hospital first thing in the morning," Teddy confirms. "But, well, what can I say? He's like Mum – completely unchanged."
Owen's stroke was of the haemorrhagic kind and after an emergency operation to stem the bleeding in his brain, the doctors put him in a coma. I didn't understand everything they said when I first went to check up on Owen on the evening I arrived in London, but Dad has walked me through the medical jargon since and I think I have a decent grasp on Owen's condition now. What's clear is that the doctors are afraid of further bleeding and therefore won't wake him up just yet.
"I sat and talked with him a little," Teddy continues. "I just never really know what to say. I'm not sure whether he hears me and I don't want to upset him. Today, I read him the sports sections from three different papers. If he heard me at all, I'm sure he was bored to tears." He smiles wryly.
"But at least he's now completely up-to-date on happenings in the Premier League," I quip. "Does he at least support the winning team?"
"Leicester City?" Teddy shrugs. "I think he's neutral on them."
"Neutral is good," I point out. "I started reading him the stock market reports the day before yesterday before realising I have no idea whether he has any investments that might be going down the drain right now. I mean, you never know, right? I ended up playing cat videos on Youtube instead and describing to him what was happening."
There's a cautious grin appearing on Teddy's face and I mentally pat myself on the back. He looks a little less despondent than he did earlier and that, after all, was my goal.
"We're dog people," he reminds me. "Dogs and horses."
I brush his remark aside. "I'll have you know that your dad is very fond of George. I'm sure he wouldn't mind watching a cat video or two."
"Hard not to be fond of that cat," Teddy concedes.
"Quite right," I agree. "Quite right."
The grin on Teddy's face flickers up once more, but then disappears as he asks, "Speaking of horses, have you seen Persis today?"
I nod. "I was at the mews this morning and was promptly roped into assisting her with teaching one of the carriage horses how to nod on command. I don't think its groom was too happy about it."
If Leslie withdrew into her own world over Owen's illness, Persis escaped to the world most familiar to her – the stables. She would never leave London with Owen being so unwell, so her own horses are out of reach, but she makes do with the carriage horses stabled at the Buckingham Palace Mews instead. She goes there every morning after breakfast and doesn't return until after nightfall and it would worry me, but at least this way, I know where she is and I know there are people keeping an eye on her. The horses are clearly a comfort to her, too, so all in all, there are worse places she could be.
"Do you think she's inconveniencing the grooms?" Teddy wonders, gnawing on his lower lip. "Should we do something?"
"We will do nothing at all," I decide firmly. "She's feeling better down there than up here and if the worst to come out of it is a carriage horse nodding its head at inopportune times, then God knows I will take it."
Teddy seems to consider that briefly, before nodding. "You're right. If it helps her, it's a good place for her."
I couldn't have said it better myself.
"At least she's up and outside, instead of being shut up in her room," I point out. "That's not a bad thing."
A second or two pass and when Teddy looks at me shyly, I already know what his next question will be. I led him there, after all.
"How's Ken?" he wants to know, looking like he's not sure whether it's even okay to ask that.
"Not out and about, that's for sure," I reply wryly. Ken, after all, has barely left his room since I came here. He gets out of bed, showers, dresses and eats as I order him and comes with me to see his father in hospital, but otherwise, he's showing precious little interest in what's going on outside his door. It's not on the same level as Leslie's total disconnection but it has similar strokes alright.
"Is he… doing anything in particular?" Teddy asks, again with that cautiousness.
"Mostly, he's watching movies," I tell him with a small grimace. "Old, depressing black-and-white movies, to be specific. Yesterday, he was binging on movies by some Japanese guy until I sent him to bed around midnight."
Teddy inclines his head questioningly. "Not Akira Kurosawa, by any chance? He made some great movies."
I look at him pointedly, letting a long moment pass. "Ted," I finally begin, my voice very matter-of-fact. "You've known me for a few years now. Do you really take me to be the person to know that kind of thing?"
His expression is confused at first, before it lights up and the grin flickers back into place. "No, probably not," he concedes.
"Probably not," I repeat, nodding. "I'll take back your question to Ken though, if you want."
Teddy quickly shakes his head. "No, it's okay! I don't want to bother him!"
I just about stop myself from rolling my eyes. Every single member of this family would live easier if they weren't so darned afraid of talking to each other!
"It's just a question, Ted," I remind him, making sure to sound gentle. "He won't mind a question. I'll ask him tonight and get back to you tomorrow."
The words don't have the required effect though. Instead of calming down, Teddy twitches nervously. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but then seems to think better of it and closes it again.
Once more, I have to refrain from rolling my eyes.
"I see the palace rumour mill is in full force," I observe drily.
"Wha – what?" stutters Teddy, his cheeks colouring.
"You heard me say that I will ask Ken tonight, which reminded you that someone in this palace told you that I spend the nights in his room, which made you wonder whether we're an item again." I tick off the points on my fingers as I speak. "Right?"
Teddy lowers his head and look sheepishly at the ground.
"The answer," I tell him, not unkindly, "is no. I'm here as his friend. I'm here because I care about him, about Owen, about all of you. That's really it. The only reason I sleep in his room is because that's the only way he will sleep at all, but sleeping is really everything we do."
And talking, I guess. Ken's still not big on talking about his feelings, but when I've pried him lose from his weird movies and put him to bed, he does sometimes talk a little, as if growing braver in the dark of the night. He talks about Owen, about his fears for the future and his regrets of the past, but it's too private to reveal any of that to Teddy. I think some of their worries are not dissimilar and that they might find comfort in sharing them, but they'll have to find a way to talk to each. There can't be an intermediary for something like this.
"He doesn't sleep without you there?" Teddy asks, looking a little surprised.
I shrug, trying to discern what I can say without breaking Ken's confidence. "He's not doing too well with dealing with this. I think not being alone helps him a little and, well… he knows me."
Teddy nods slowly, considering my words. I can see that he has something on his mind and give him the time he needs to work out his thoughts. Finally, he looks up at me shyly and asks, "Do you think… do you think I'm unfeeling?"
Unfeeling?
It's safe to say that that wasn't the question I was expecting.
"I have no idea why you would think that, but I can assure you I never ever thought of you as unfeeling," I assure him. "In fact, you might be one of the most emphatic people I know." He's certainly one of the kindest.
"Ah, well." Teddy purses his lips and I can see the heat rising in his face. He doesn't quite meet my eyes. "It's just because… I thought something must be wrong with me because… I mean, they're all struggling so, but I'm… I'm up and I'm talking to you and I thought… shouldn't I be more like them? Shouldn't I…" He trails off helplessly.
"Hide away from the reality of the situation, you mean?" I supply.
He shrugs, then nods.
"No, you shouldn't. I think everyone is dealing – or not dealing – with this in their own way," I reply, choosing my words carefully. "You're more functional than Leslie, Ken and Persis, but that's not because you're unfeeling, it's just because you're like your father."
Teddy's head snaps up in surprise. "I'm not at all like Dad!" he protests, aghast. "Ken is, but not me!"
I snort. "That's just nonsense. Ken looks more like Owen at first glance and they can both do that thing where they charm people until they're so befuddled they forget their own names, but that's about it. Fundamentally, Ken is much more like Leslie and in some ways, Persis is, too. You're the only one to take after Owen and that's why you're not hiding away in a room or a stable. It's not about strength, I don't think, it's about how to tackle a problem. Owen sees a problem and tries to find a way to solve it, especially when he notices it affects other people. You do that, too."
My declaration is met by silence as Teddy processes everything I just told him. He genuinely seems like he never looked at it this way and at first, his expression is sceptical, but gradually, I can see it turn to wonderment and finally a quiet kind of calm as he starts accept what I told him.
Finally, he looks up at me. "You do it, too, you know," he remarks. "The problem tackling thing."
Yeah, I do.
"Then at least we can tackle them together," I point out with a smile and carefully bump my shoulder against his in the way I used to do with Shirley when we were younger and I was trying to encourage him to do something outside of his room and away from his computer.
"Right." Teddy nods. "Because the show always goes on."
I raise both eyebrows at him. "Well, we certainly won't let the curtain to fall on our watch, will we?"
There's his grin again, flickering at first but then growing steadier as he returns the shoulder bump. "Like hell we will!"
The title of this chapter is taken from the song 'The Show Must Go On' (written by John Deacon, Brian May, Freddie Mercury and Roger Taylor, released by Queen in 1991).
An Rabea:
Als ich dein Review gelesen habe musste ich über mich selbst lachen. Im ersten Moment habe ich einfach gelesen und dann dachte ich mir plötzlich "Hm, irgendwas ist hier anders", bis mir aufgefallen ist, dass es die Sprache ist ;). Aber du hast völlig Recht, was sollen wir uns auch auf Englisch unterhalten!
Ich muss sagen, dass diese ganze Geschichte hier für mich ziemlich als Experiment angefangen hat. Es war das erste Mal, dass ich mich daran gewagt habe, von Beginn an auf Englisch zu schreiben und während es absolut eine gute Übung ist, war es auch ein bisschen einschüchternd. Zudem war ich vorher niemand, der sehr viel über die modernen Königsfamilien wusste. Über historische Adlige und Royals schon, aber nicht über diejenigen, die regelmäßig und unfreiwillig diese fiesen Klatschblätter füllen. Irgendwie kam aber auch gerade daher die Idee, mich an diese Geschichte zu wagen, weil ich mir gedacht habe, auch Royals müssen normale Menschen sein und mich gefragt habe, wie sich wohl ein normaler Mensch in so einer ungewöhnlichen Situation verhält. Das war die Frage und ich würde sagen, fast eine halbe Millionen Wörter später nähere ich mich einer Antwort an ;).
Ich bin in jedem Fall froh, dass du der Geschichte trotz der Sprache und dem Thema eine Chance gegeben hast und noch froher, dass sie dir gefällt! Ich habe auch noch mindestens 33 Kapitel geplant und wir werden sehen, ob die uns schon zum Ende bringen. Für danach habe ich Ideen für drei Geschichten, mit denen ich herumspiele, also wird es sicher einen irgendwie gearteten Nachfolger geben. Ich fürchte nämlich, ich weiß gar nicht, wie es ist, nicht zu schreiben. Ich verspreche also, dass ich auch in Zukunft noch viel schreiben werde und ich hoffe sehr, es wird dir gefallen!
To Guest:
You asked and I delivered! Here's a brand new chapter and I hope it makes for an enjoyable read =).
