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When Henry was born, he didn't make a sound. At least according to Dad, who always told it that way. Apparently, Pip and I were the loud ones. But Henry was silent. So quiet the Obstetrician thought something was wrong with him and called for a Pediatrician, immediately. He was whisked away immediately, and Mum begged Dad to follow him. Watch over him.
Being the baby of the family, Henry was different. Where Pip and I were active children, Henry was quiet. Where Pip and I were social, Henry preferred his own company. It wasn't until Henry was four, that he ever wanted to play with me. I was six, almost seven and playing dress ups. Thanks to our great aunt, I had a huge collection of dress ups. Every kind imaginable. thanks to Gran, I had multiple tea sets. Plastic ones, porcelains ones and even fine bone china tea sets. It quickly became our thing, when Henry was in the mood to play; we'd dress for tea and have a tea party.
One day of no particular consequence, Henry dressed as Snow white, complete with one of my most prized possessions - the tiara mum and dad had commissioned for me when I turned five. He looked so pretty, sitting there in the royal blue bodice, red and blue capped sleeves, the long yellow skirt; complete with white petty coat under the skirt and the diamond tiara perched in amongst his blonde locks of hair. Not the shade of blonde hair he has now, but the fine baby blonde hair he had back then, almost a sand colour. His charming smile as held his teacup in his hand, daintily - Just like I had been taught and was practicing. The way a princess was supposed to hold her teacup. The cup filled with water because dad had told us we were too young for tea. Just for the occasion, I had asked our governess for some biscuits to munch on, and she had returned with two Jaffa cakes. They weren't my favourite, but they had chocolate, so they would do in a pinch. I offered the china biscuit plate to Henry first, showing off the skills I had just learnt, from the etiquette lessons I had just started having. Before taking one for myself. The look on Henry's face, and in his eyes, as he took that first bite into the choc-orange sweetness was something indescribable. it wouldn't be until years later that I would see that look on my brother's face again. And it wouldn't be caused by a bloody Jaffa cake.
As I grew older, Pip spent more time with Gran and Mum on royal outings, while I with my governess. Between etiquette lessons, piano lessons and equestrian lessons, it seemed like it was all I ever did. Henry was often away with dad, allowed to lose himself in books, while on the film sets or at the theatre while Dad had rehearsals. It was all fine. Even if I hated the etiquette lessons, piano lessons and equestrian lessons, I was given no choice. Gran's word was law. After all, she wasn't just Gran; she was the Queen of our country and many more. She ruled the kingdom, and our family.
Do not mistake my parents for neglecting me. They did not. I would eventually accompany mum and Gran on royal outings and on royal tours. My photo would be splashed across the many tabloids and tv screens, just as Pip's was. And Henry's. And Dad's. We would accompany the Queen as a family to royal events too. Dad would quite often help Henry with being able to see, or stand up, much to Gran's dismay. Dad did take pleasure in vexing her. Which I believe mum enjoyed dad doing too, even if she did chastise him.
Eventually Henry grew out of tea parties and dress ups, but I would pull the big sister card and make him play. Henry would resist, but eventually he would give in. In between his own endeavor's. Lessons at Eton, Equestrian lessons, piano lessons, polo practice. In return, I would attend Henry's polo matches, and cheer him on - in a royal way, of course.
While Henry and Pip were sent to Eton, I was sent to Benenden School – an independent school for girls in Kent. My Gran, her sister and my Great Aunt Princess Anne, my mother Princess Catherine went there, and my twin cousins Charolotte and Victoria are current students there. My Great Aunt, Princess Anne is still involved in the Benenden community and occasionally attends events in her role as President of the Benenden Society. I enjoyed my time there. I made a couple of friends, but not too many.
One of Benenden's many flaws were that it was exactly 123 kilometres away from Eton, where Henry was. While it is true, Benenden is not the exact equivalent of Eton, it is close enough. After all Gran likes to remind the females of our family that until Benenden was built, the ladies of the royal family simple forewent undergoing an education. Before self-indulgingly reminding us that if it wasn't for her begging and unhanded manipulation of her father King George, that would still be the way of the family today.
Henry and I made the best of the situation, being 123 kilometres away from one another. We corresponded weekly, with letters and a monthly telephone call. We made it work. Coming home for the summer was always a joyous occasion, even if we did have to accompany Gran to the Sandringham estate for a minimum of two weeks. It was at our time at Carmarthenshire, our non-royal residence Llwynywermod where we always had the most fun. No servants, no help, no titles - Just the five of us, being the Fox family.
The return to Kensington ready for another school year, Henry's final year at Eton, and the unspoken tenseness of the palace creeps back in. Our father's harsh announcement of his diagnosis hung in the air. Our mother's heartbroken face, but stoic posture was the only trace of the real Princess Catherine. Pip was off, having been on leave from his enlistment and heading back to his base. I was at Oxford, studying art in my second year, much to Gran's dismay. And Henry was back to Eton. At least Oxford and Eton are closer. A mere 71 kilometres, a vast difference from the 123 that we had endured two years before.
Dad's announcement had shocked us all, by far. By Spring break, things were far worse than they had ever been. mum was beside herself and Dad was wasting away before our eyes. Henry had been moody and off-kilter since. But I couldn't afford to focus my energy on him, I was struggling to hold it together, myself. I had been partying and drinking. I had even tried cocaine, anything to numb the pain I felt.
By the end of Spring break, Dad had passed. Mum retreated into her grief; I took whatever I could. Slept with whoever I could, to numb the pain. Pip became a cold, militant version of Gran, I couldn't take that. So, I told him to fuck off. He sent Henry back to Eton, giving him a spiel about how real men do not cry.
The thing about losing your father is everyone grieves in different ways. But when you are royal. You are not allowed to show emotion. The whole world was mourning the loss of Arthur Fox - renown star of the stage and screen. Technically a prince consort - the husband and father of royalty. Dad's funeral was planned down to the exact detail. He wanted it to be private, just us, and he wanted to be cremated, have his ashes scattered under the old tree in their garden at Llwynywermod. To Gran, that was unbecoming for a member of the Royal Family. So, she changed his plans. He had a service at Westminster Abbey. Dad had converted to the Church of England to be marry mum. He was actually a Catholic. His coffin was paraded through the streets of London, with Pip, Henry and I to walk behind it. Our grief on display for the world to see. A lecture, stern and sharp had been given by Gran. Her edict for the day. We were to show no emotion, or we would be punished. Showing emotion was weak and unbecoming for our stature and position in life. It would not be tolerated.
I remember the night before Dad's funeral, I drank myself to sleep in the place. Woke up alone in my room. Snorted my stash. Everything except for my emergency line I kept on my person. A small vile inside my bra, under my left breast. I knew I was going to need it to get through the day.
I don't remember much of dad's funeral after being paraded around. The following day, Gran and Pip forcibly put me in the car and demanded I go to rehab. Apparently, I was the second drama of the day, Pip had taken great delight in telling me that he'd had to forcibly put Henry into a car to, sending him immediately back to school, as if nothing happened. I lasted four hours at the rehab and snuck out. Called my dealer and he came and picked me up.
The memories of the rest of that night are hazy, they come in blocks. I don't remember calling Henry at Eton. I don't remember telling Henry I wanted to kill myself. I don't remember Henry stealing Pez's car and coming down to East London. I don't remember Henry punching the random guy I was grinding against on the dancefloor. I don't remember Henry dragging me off the dancefloor and out of the club.
But I do remember Henry screaming at me. Telling me he didn't want me to kill myself. Telling me he was gay, and dad was gone, that he was all alone. I remember him crying in my arms. I remember crying in his. I remember my promise to him to get clean and stay clean. When I sobered up, it was almost 5am. We went to a McDonalds drive through for breakfast and sat in the car Henry had taken from Pez. I remember promising him I would always be there for him. After breakfast, I asked him to drive me back to the rehab.
There, I worked hard. I got clean, I stayed sober. I participated in the therapies and worked with a sponsor to stay that way. I got myself a therapist and begun opening up to her. Gran kept me shielded from the media, even though they had already pieced most of the Powder Princess saga together. Eventually, she made me ease my way back into royal engagements.
When Henry met Alex, at the Olympics in Rio, he came home and told me jokingly - he had met the man he was going to marry. Before sobering up and telling me how he had Shaan get rid of him, that he had seen Alex flirting with some girl named Nora Holleran. Henry was sure he was straight and refused to hear anything else.
In three years, Henry and Alex antagonized one another, I wasn't entirely convinced Alex was straight. The cake saga was just desserts for Pip, who had been a pompous arse in the lead up to the wedding. Their friendship turned real, and Alex was slowly torturing Hen with his effervescent personality and sparkling wit. Seeing Henry appear so unexpectedly, looking distraught after his trip to Washington DC was something I had associated with henry's unrequited feelings and dismissed it. I was on a royal engagement with Gran in Scotland when Henry returned from the Prime Minister's Dinner at the White House. By the time, I returned, Henry was in Wales on an engagement of his own.
Walking into Henry's room unannounced late one evening, had its own consequences. Seeing Henry naked as the day he was born, three fingers deep on an after-dark FaceTime with an equally naked Alex; stroking himself, left Henry capable of nothing but flustered British stammering and thousand-yard stares for the next day and a half.
That was when I discovered why Henry had been putting so much effort into his PR friendship with Alex. They had been hooking up every time they got together. Feeling sorry for Henry, knowing how much he liked Alex, I suggested he invite Alex to Wimbledon, when Pez was away. Plus, if it threw Pip off kilter, so much the better. Personally, I had an ulterior motive. I needed to know how Alex was feeling. When Henry came out to me, I promised to protect him, so that was exactly what I was going to do.
Seeing the unbridled happiness and joy grace Henry's face, in Alex's presence was a sight to behold. It took me right back to the little boy who adored playing dress ups and wearing my tiara. I hadn't seen henry this happy since before our father passed. It was that moment; I knew that Alex was in love with Henry. Even if Henry did not believe it.
Being in LA, with Pez, Henry, Alex, June and Nora was a delicious treat. While I stayed sober and all of them were pissed as farts, was amusing. I was ok knowing I was the only one not hooking up. I choose to not the specifics, why Alex slipped away, shortly after Henry did at the club in West Hollywood. Or what they were up to, but I knew exactly what vodka did to Henry and knew exactly why Pez had ordered the vodka shits. Once Alex knew too, he only encouraged Henry. I knew. But seeing Henry so uninhibited, unrestricted, so free - it was a sight to behold. Alex and Henry were so nauseatingly in love, yet both so oblivious, it physically hurt my heart. Getting to know Alex better, and officially meeting June and Nora was fun too. Especially June, we had been commiserating about our brothers and their obtuse relationship for so long over Instagram, I thought we would never meet.
When Henry ran from Alex in Texas, I tried to talk some sense into him. I heard the commotion less than a week later - Alex storming Kensington Palace, demanding to see Henry. Enquiring minds wanted to know the following morning. Seeing Henry's door closed and remembering the last time. I walked in there. Nope I wasn't reliving that experience. Seeking Shaan out, he delightfully informed me that Alex was still here and would not return to the States until the following day. I was hoping to see a personal tell of Shaan's. To see if he thought it was a good idea, but he was stoic in his professional appearance. Before I caught the briefest of brief smile from him.
Having Henry outed, through an email leak and the world knowing about their emails was an experience I would not wish on anyone. Pip had been furious, as had Gran. Pip had been forceful, storming in like he owned the place. he broke a priceless Anne Bolyn vase. But Alex's appearance and the way Henry relaxed into Alex was all I needed to see, to know Henry would be ok. I gave Alex an insight into Henry's grief and at his declaration that he still loved Herny, not in spite of it, but because of it, was all the reassurance I needed.
Leaving them alone, A drunk Henry in Alex's capable hands, I knew what I had to do. The following morning, I sought Mum out and forced her to listen to me. For the first time in years, my mother took stock of what was happening around her. When I told her everything. What Gran had done, what Pip had done, how Alex adores Henry and makes him happy, how Henry loves Alex with every fiber of his being. I ended the conversation with how Gran had summoned Henry to a meeting today, how she was planning to issue a denial. Mum saw red and finally, I got the response I was looking for.
That was the day that Mum was resurrected from her grief. Mum fought for Henry and Alex. She became one of their biggest supporters. Gran couldn't move mum's support. Suddenly our family dynamics changed. Alex was Henry's official royal suitor and Gran toed the line a lot better with us. With mum's support, Henry could work on his chosen charities with Pez. even if they took him to the US.
When Henry left for the US yesterday, for President Claremont's inauguration. It was not like any of his previous trips. For one, all of his belonging were packed and loaded onto the plane, including David, Henry's dog. He wasn't coming home to live, stay, sure. But not live. From the celebrations in DC, Henry and Alex would fly onto New York and start their lives together. Henry at his shelters, and Alex in law school, at NYU.
That wouldn't stop me being henry's big sister. It just meant he was getting his very own Happy Ever After.