London, England
July 2016
When you've got a job to do
It feels strange to be back here.
Not in a bad way, I mean. In fact, it's not in a bad way at all. It's just… just strange. Glad as I am to be back, I never thought I'd ever be here again, so to be standing in this very spot is somehow unexpected. I'm not here by chance, of course, so it shouldn't feel as unexpected as it does, but since when have feelings ever made sense anyway?
Standing in the middle of the concrete yard, I study the low building in front of me. It still looks broadly the same as it did when I was here the last time, a good eight months ago. There's some new graffiti near the left corner and the roof looks like some significant work was done to it. Near the back of the yard, I spy a new set of basketball hoops and there's a swing hanging from one of the lonely trees that wasn't there before.
It's still the same place, but I'm not sure whether I'm still welcome here, so instead of going inside, I remain standing here, shuffling my feet, stalling. The hot July sun burns on my back, but what eventually drives me inside is not the threat of sunburn but the tell-tale click of a camera somewhere behind me.
Here we go again.
I thought I'd shaken off the paparazzi on my way here, but apparently, that was too optimistic a notion. They just have a knack for sniffing me out, no matter when or where. (Seriously, if there is one single drawback of Ken and me having reconciled, it's this. I rather liked not being stalked every waking moment.)
Holding my head high, I cross the yard, not turning to look at whoever is photographing me. I can't prevent them from following me and taking pictures, but I don't have to make it easy for them either. Let the tabloids print photos of my back, if they feel so inclined!
When I reach the front door, I quickly step through it, feeling grateful when I hear the door fall shut behind me. The youth centre has always been a safe space for me and that, at least, hasn't changed. I still feel a sense of calm within these walls, a sense of… belonging.
Turning, I start to walk down the hall towards the office – when suddenly, someone barrels headfirst into me, making contact with my stomach.
"Oomph!" I double over slightly and look down, only to find Preti staring up at me with narrowed eyes.
"Preti, dear!" I exclaim. "Hello!"
But Preti just narrows her eyes further and knits her brows into a frown. "You left!"
I hesitate. She has a point, after all.
"I had to leave for a while, yes," I admit. "But I'm back now."
"You left!" repeats Preti, looking not the least bit placated.
Taking a deep breath, I try to decide what to say next. It looks like I've found the one person who is not willing to forgive my sudden flight so easily.
"I didn't want to leave you or anyone else here," I tell her, hoping it sounds as sincere as I mean it. "I just couldn't stay. I wanted to, but there were reasons that meant I had to leave. I missed you something awful though. You have to believe that!"
"I have to believe nothing!" Preti counters, now full-on glaring at me. "I don't have to do anything I don't want to do!"
Right. I don't think it's a good idea to be drawn in such an existential argument. I can't win that one, no matter what I say.
"You're right," I calmly agree with Preti. "You don't have to do anything and I apologise for telling you that you do. How about I ask you whether you can believe me when I say I missed you?"
Preti doesn't answer immediately, instead considering me closely, her eyes now mere slits.
"If you missed us, why didn't you come back?" she wants to know and I must admit that that's a perfectly valid question.
"Because…" I begin, before stopping myself. How do I explain the past few months and everything they meant to a girl like Preti?
"Sujata said you left because Prince Ken broke up with you," Preti informs me bluntly.
I slowly let go of a breath. How to explain it to her, indeed?
"He and I went through a difficult time and I was very hurt because of it," I finally tell her. "Do you know how when you're not feeling well, you want to be at home and cuddle up with your mum?"
Preti nods hesitatingly, as if not quite trusting where I'm heading with this.
"I wanted to be with my mum, too. I wasn't well at all and I needed to be with my family," I explain, hoping it's something she can understand.
A moment passes, before Preti frowns again. This time, though, she looks confused more than displeased. "But you're grown up!" she protests.
Quickly, I hide the smile threatening to break through. "Yes, but even when you're grown up, sometimes all you need is a hug from your mum."
I watch Preti closely as she mulls that over. Finally, her expression clears and she announces, "My mum gives the best hugs."
"Yes," I agree, now allowing the smile to show. "Mine, too."
Preti grins cheekily. "But not as good as mine!"
"Very well." I laugh. "Can we agree that my mum gives the second-best hugs?"
"Yes," declares Preti simply and reaches forward to grab my hand. As she drags me along the hall, she informs me, "Sujata said you were in London in spring and you didn't come to see us, but I've decided that that's okay because Sujata said you were helping the King get better."
"I was," I confirm. "He was very unwell and he and his family needed all the help they could get."
"Daddy said he's better now," Preti replies. "Daddy met him once. He said the King is a very nice man."
Nodding, I swallow heavily against the lump in my throat. "Yes, he is better. And yes, he's the nicest man."
Without warning, Preti suddenly stops in the middle of the hall and peers up at me. "And Prince Ken is nice again, too?"
I laugh softly. "Yes, he's nice again as well."
"Good!" decides Preti and starts walking again. "If he's nice, you won't need to leave again."
She doesn't formulate it as a question, but I still feel the need to confirm, "No, I won't need to leave. In fact, I'm here to ask Simone if I can start helping out again."
"You can," Preti assures me generously, obviously not deeming Simone's consent to be at all necessary.
Having reached the closed door leading to the office, she comes to a halt again and looks up at me pensively. I wait, not wanting to interrupt her thoughts. A few seconds pass, before she abruptly takes a step towards me and her head collides with my stomach for a second time. This time, however, it's to give me a tight hug that I return immediately.
Crouching down slightly to Preti's level without breaking the hug, I whisper to her, "You give the very best hugs, too."
Her head surfaces from where it was pressed into my t-shirt and she beams widely at me. "We both do!"
And who can argue with that?
Promising Preti to come find her later and not to disappear again for any length of time, I convince her to let me go again. She skips back to the big common room, allowing me to turn my attention towards the office, where I know Simone to be. Knocking softly, I wait until I hear her call me in, before opening the door and stepping into the room.
Simone sits behind a desk that is laden with disorderly piles of paper. One particularly large pile perches precariously on the edge of the desktop and I have to resist the urge to rush over and save it from falling to its doom. Behind the papers, I can just make out Simone and she doesn't appear like she has any sort of control over the chaos. On the contrary, she looks frazzled, exhausted and extremely annoyed as she frowns at a folder lying in front of her.
"Yes?" she asks when I enter, not looking up. Despite her obvious stress, her voice isn't curt or annoyed. Simone would never snap at one of the kids, not matter how she herself feels.
"Hello Simone," I greet and step further into the room, closing the door behind me. The office is so small – more of a cubicle, really – that with a mere two steps, I'm standing directly in front of the desk.
Simone looks up and when she recognises me, a smile lights up her tired face. "Rilla! How lovely to see you!"
"Lovely to be back," I counter with a smile of my own. "But I know I came without warning, so if you're busy…"
"Not at all, not at all," Simone assures. "Please, take a seat!" Pushing the folder she was reading to the side, she looks around the room, probably for something for me to sit on. Finally, she makes out the lone visitor's chair in the corner behind me. On top of it perches a tower of well-worn ring binders and it must surely defy the law of physics that they haven't all toppled to the ground yet.
"Just put them… somewhere," Simone advises as she gestures vaguely towards the folders.
Briefly, I try to figure out the best place to put them, but then rationalise that it doesn't make a difference because this entire office is a mess anyway. It never used to be the most orderly place, but clearly, the past few months haven't been kind to it. If someone told me a bomb had been set off in here, I'd have no trouble believing it.
Carefully placing the ring binders on the ground, I pull the chair closer to the desk and sit. As I do, I discreetly push that one particularly precarious paper pile to sit more securely on the desk. Simone, meanwhile, has used to time the shift some papers of her own and thus, has cleared a space between us so we can at least look at another over the well-laden desk.
"It's a lovely surprise to see you again," she re-asserts as she reaches behind her to twist her hair into a knot, securing it with the remains of a broken pencil.
"It's lovely to be back," I repeat. "Though I did already have to justify my leaving to Preti. She wasn't well pleased with me."
Simone chuckles. "I can imagine she grilled you quite a bit. To be honest, she felt quite betrayed by your sudden disappearance. It didn't help that Sam stopped coming regularly at around the same time."
Sam.
Instinctively, I sit up straighter. I can tell that my shift in posture doesn't escape Simone. (Her perceptiveness is what makes her good at her job, or at least the parts of her job that truly matter.) She watches me curiously, but even though I know she must have a lot of questions, she doesn't ask them. (Not being nosy or pushy is another thing that's very important in her line of work.)
"Sam isn't here, in case you were wondering," she informs me mildly.
My shoulders sag in relief. I didn't want to ask, but I needed to know. The danger of running into Sam was what kept me from coming back here earlier and though I gathered up all of my courage and came today anyway, I still felt a distinct sense of wariness.
"We don't see much of him around here anymore," Simone adds, but she does it without any hint of accusation in her voice. "He didn't suddenly stop coming, but his visits gradually became fewer over the weeks and now he only drops by occasionally."
"His music career is taking off quite nicely," I observe carefully. I didn't hear much about him back in Canada, but since my return to England, I couldn't help noticing that Sam is having some real success.
"Oh yes," agrees Simone. "He's very busy and I understand that he doesn't have much time for us anymore. I wish him all the best with his music. It did mean, however, that the kids lost both of you nearly at the same time. The more sensible ones like Preti didn't take that lightly."
I wince. "I'm sorry."
"No, no." Simone shakes her head. "I didn't say that to make you feel bad. You have your own life and I'm sure you had your reasons for leaving. We were grateful for all your support last year but that didn't mean you were or are under any obligation to keep coming."
"Maybe not," I reply slowly. "But I never even said goodbye. I didn't explain anything. I just disappeared. That wasn't good form."
Simone places the fingers of both hands against each other and looks at me closely over her fingertips. "But you're back now."
"I am," I confirm quickly. "And if that's alright with you, I'd like to keep coming back from now on. I promise never vanish again like that either."
"You're certainly always welcome," Simone reassures me with a smile. Gesturing at the chaos around her, she adds, "As you can see, it's not like I can't use all the help I can get."
I let my eyes drift over the papers and folders and binders. "This place has seen more orderly days," I observe cautiously.
Simone laughs, then sighs suddenly. "You can say that again." She shakes her head. "It just all got to be a bit too much for me. We received so much more money in donations in the past year and we've been able to do some real good with it, but it also means so much more paperwork. Harriet was quite good at keeping on top of it, but she just had her baby, so it all lands on my desk now and I've never been good with office side of things. I'd much rather work with the children than try to make sense of all this every day." She looks despondently at the papers piled on her desk.
I frown, as my mind starts to connect the dots. "I'm good at it though," I blurt out.
When I look at Simone, I see a spark of hope glimmer in her eyes. "You are?"
"I have an economics degree from NYU, so I'm not totally rubbish." I shrug modestly. "I could have a look at this if you want to." Even as I'm offering, I feel a sense of apprehension as I consider the mess and how much work it will be to straighten it out again. But I've tackled worse problems and anyway, there hasn't been a challenge I haven't been able to meet once I put my mind to it.
Despite my assurance though, the spark of hope in Simone's eyes flickers and then dies. "That is very kind of you, but I couldn't ask you to do this," she tells me, sighing. "You're already so lovely to volunteer your time to help with the children and I can't ask you to spend hours upon hours shut up in this office."
"Actually…" I pause as the puzzle pieces click together in my mind. "Actually… you don't happen to have a job for me, do you?"
Simone inclines her head, clearly surprised. "A job?"
I shrug, feeling a little self-conscious. "I assume Harriet is busy with her baby for the foreseeable future and unless you've already filled her position, I'd like to apply. I can help out with the office work and with the kids. They already know me, I know my way around here… it's not a bad fit, I think."
If I'm truly honest, I've had this little hope inside of me for weeks, that perhaps I could get a real job here. There's no doubt that I need one before long and I'd rather work here than slave away at some impersonal office or go back into the hospitality sector. It almost feels a bit too convenient for Harriet to go on maternity leave just now, but some blessings need not be questioned. Sometimes, you just need to take the hand fate deals you and run with it.
"I haven't gotten around to reviewing applications yet," Simone answers slowly and I can almost see the wheels in her mind turning. "If you want the job, it's yours, absolutely. But I must warn you that it's part-time and we can't exactly pay a lot of money."
"Part-time works," I reply, "and I don't need a high wage."
Living rent-free at Wren House certainly helps keep my financial needs low. I tried to get Ken to agree to a similar scenario we had in Oxford, with me officially renting a bedroom from him, but when he laughed and quoted me the market rent for just a single room in that area, I realised that it wouldn't be feasible. I still dislike the idea of the royals bankrolling me, even indirectly, but when Ken, backed up by his family, assured me that it's the least they can do in light of all the support I've given them, I grudgingly agreed. That support, incidentally, is also why a part-time jobs works well for me, because while I'm not doing nearly as much heavy lifting as I did back in April, I'm still very much in the thick of things when it comes to royal life.
Simone hums thoughtfully. "You have no idea how tempting that sounds," she admits. "But I promised Harriet she could have the job back after her maternity leave. I don't know if I will be able to pay for both of you when she returns."
"You won't have to," I tell her simply, choosing my words carefully. "I need a job, but I'm not exactly looking for a long-term career opportunity, if you understand what I mean."
Raising my head slightly, I meet Simone's curious gaze. She studies me for a moment, taking in the implications of what I'm saying, before a smile spreads over her face. "So we have a deal, I think." A beat. "You don't happen to want to start today, do you?"
Of course I do, so after signing some papers (and realising that Simone wasn't lying about the pay), I'm officially part of the team. It being my first day, Simone chases me out of the office to spend it with the children and if nothing else, the beaming smile of Preti when I tell her I'll be around regularly from now on is totally worth it.
I enjoy my time back with the kids immensely, and when I return home to KP in the evening, I'm in a tremendously good mood. Or at least, I remain in a good mood until I spot Leslie sitting on the wooden bench in front of Wren House and my blood runs cold with fear.
"Leslie?" I rush towards her. "Is everything alright? Is something the matter with Owen?"
Owen is back at home from rehab and while he's much better, he's still not his old self. I know I'm not the only one living in secret fear that something could happen to him again. Brain haemorrhages, after all, can be unpredictable, just like strokes.
Leslie shakes her head and smiles to reassure me. "Owen is fine. Please don't worry."
I breathe a long sign of relief as I feel my heartbeat slowing down again. Sitting down heavily on the bench beside Leslie, I briefly rub my hands over my face. "Thank God. I was… worried there for a moment."
"I apologise for that," Leslie replies earnestly. "I should have called ahead and announced my coming."
"No, it's fine." I shake my head. "If you've come to see Ken, I'll have to disappoint you though. He's in Liverpool doing engagements today. I don't expect him back until late this evening."
With Owen not set to return to royal duties in the foreseeable future and Leslie not making any public appearances either right now, it fell to their children to step up. Ken is working more than I've ever seen him do before and Teddy and Persis stepped into the breach as well. With the rest of the royal family ramping up their support as well, they've got it well-covered between them, though I know the country is waiting to see its monarch again as well.
"I know he's away," Leslie confirms. "I've actually come to see you. I have… a favour to ask of you."
"A favour?" I repeat stupidly and frown.
Leslie falls silent for a moment and smooths down her skirt carefully. When she speaks, she does so without looking at me. "You've surely seen that while Owen is better, he's not fully recovered yet. He needs to get away from all this for a while and frankly, so do I."
Unconsciously, I find myself nodding along to her words. Owen still has a long road ahead until complete recovery and it's apparent that the past few months have taken their toll on Leslie as well. She's almost impossibly thin and I don't think she's sleeping well, even now. Between the three of us, Ken, Teddy and I have made sure to keep Persis eating properly and when I look at Leslie now, I can't help thinking that maybe we should have taken better care of her, too. As Grandmother Marilla would say, she's in dire need of a good meal or ten and probably of a lot more than that, too.
"I'd like to take him up to Balmoral for the summer and maybe even beyond that," Leslie continues, her gaze drifting upwards. "It's quiet and private there and he needs both to get better, I think. However, I'm fully aware what that means for everyone we leave behind here in London and…" She trails off.
"And?" I prompt cautiously.
She takes a deep breath. "Don't get me wrong, I'm incredibly proud of my children and the way they've handled this – continue to handle it, really. Ken and Teddy especially have truly stepped up to take on more responsibility than is their due and Persis, too, has been an incredible support. It's just…" She pauses and sighs. "They're going to need more than that. They still need help."
"And that's where I come in." I'm not phrasing it as a question because it isn't really.
Leslie nods anyway. "That's the favour I've come to ask. You've already done more for us than we can ever repay you, and yet, here I am, asking even more of you." She laughs softly, but it's not a very humorous laugh.
"What, exactly, is it that you want me to do?" I ask carefully.
"Nothing specific," she replies after a moment. "Just… continue what you've been doing. I guess I'm asking you to support them while Owen and I are gone. I know we will both resting easier knowing that they can rely on you, Ken especially."
"I'm already doing that though," I point out. "It's not really something anyone has to ask me to do."
"I know, I know!" Leslie is quick to assure. "I know that and I can't say how much I appreciate it. I just think…" She doesn't finish the sentence, instead lightly shaking her head. When she speaks again, her tone has changed to become pensive, "You're similar to him, you know?"
I frown in confusion. "To whom?"
"To Owen," she replies, as if that was quite apparent. "You have the same kind of strength he does. We always needed him to hold us up and with him not being able to, you stepped in and did it. You have that in common with him, that strength and the ability to share it with others."
I open my mouth, but then I realise that I have nothing to say to that. The compliment – for it is a compliment – might be one of the greatest anyone has ever paid me and it's succeeded in rendering me speechless.
A moment passes before Leslie looks up at me, her eyes the same turmoil of emotion I've seen with Ken before. "I know we already asked too much of you, but I'm here to ask even more. I'm here to ask you to help my children, because Owen can't do it anymore and I never really could. Do you think… do you think you can be strong for them a little while longer?"
The title of this chapter is taken from the song 'Summer of '69' (written by Bryan Adams and Jim Vallance, released by Bryan Adams in 1984).
To DogMonday:
You're very welcome! I know you asked what happened to Ken's mental issues and I hope the last chapter addressed them in a way that feels right to you. For several reasons, mental health and its realistic depiction are very close to my heart, so I was anxious to get it right in the last chapter. Sadly, there's still a stigma attached to mental illness and it prevents people from getting the help they need, so I wanted to show my character as seeking that help and profiting from it. There's no quick fix and even therapy needs time and, yes, also a lot of work from patient and therapist, but it's still the best thing we have to support those that are struggling mentally. Ken will also continue to see Otto for a long while and he still has a lot of issues to work through, but he's taken a very big step to getting better and is already reaping the first rewards of it. He's getting better and with mental health, that's the most important thing!
As for your other questions, I hope this chapter addressed what Rilla is doing now besides taking naps on the couch ;). This isn't the extent of her personal progress, but it was important for her to get a job and the youth centre is close to her heart, so she's killing two birds with a stone here. I apologise for not showing Nan's wedding, but it just didn't work out. I actually planned to have chapter 102 show the actual wedding, but when I wrote the chapter, the focus didn't move away from the day before and I finally had to admit the truth - I'm no good at writing weddings. I keep planning to write them and then just meander off and write the scenes before and after instead (see also the weddings of Jem and Di). I promise that when we got to it, I will write the big wedding everyone is waiting for, but I'm afraid the others will continue to happen off-screen. There's more scope for the information in that anyway, right? ;) And as for how Rilla and Ken break the news of their reunion to her family, I know that DW.618 wrote that scene for her Anne's Diary, so once she gets to that point in the narrative, we should get a better look at what happened there =).
Ken and Katya aren't related. Even if she descends from Russian aristocracy (which no-one knows for sure), the Romanovs didn't intermarry with their own nobles (they imported minor German princesses instead), so there is no shared ancestry. I do imagine she'd get well along with Great-Aunt Tanya though, if/when that meeting ever happens! And yes, Irene is indeed Irene Howard. Good catch there! I could imagine that, just like in canon, Rilla looked up to her as a girl, because Rilla is easily blended by good looks. She probably saw through Irene before the story started though and for sure once Irene started writing articles about her. That's a bit of a red flag right there.
