“David,” Mr. Waters said, “it’s not that hard to dance. We’ve done much harder things, sir.”
The prince laughed then. “I’m not sure of that,” he said. “I think this is worse than the war.”
He looked at me, cocked his head a little. “You must come, of course,” he said.
I was so surprised I turned to look behind me to see who he might be addressing. Helen was there. Her eyes were not on the prince. They were on Mr. Waters.
“Sir,” Mr. Waters said then, “poor Maddie has enough to do keeping up with the mail.”
I was nodding furiously, agreeing with Mr. Waters, not daring to speak for fear I’d say something stupid.
Mr. Waters continued, “I’m sure—”
“I don’t care,” the prince snapped at Mr. Waters. “I want her there. Will you? Would you like to come with us to the ball?” he said to me again.
“Well, sir, I do have a lot to do here.”
Mr. Waters said, “Yes, she does, and, David, we’ll never hear the end of it if we change the arrangements. Remember Sydney and Miss Little. They’ll have tables organized—”
“Well, they can reorganize them. You don’t have to work, Maddie. Surely you can have one night off for some dancing. Is Mr. Waters such a bear?”
“I don’t dance,” I said truthfully.
He laughed again. “Well, that settles it. Dickie and I will teach you. Dickie, believe it or not, is an excellent teacher, although I am the better dancer.”
I saw Mr. Waters look toward Helen, who was glaring at him. He looked away. “Very well,” he said. “I’ll send word. But, sir, there are only so many times—”
“I know,” the prince said, his eyes hardening as he looked at Mr. Waters. “But this is one of them. Because, Rupert, I asked you to make sure I never had to put up with that woman again and she will be there tonight. Am I correct?”
“Well, she’s the wife of the governor, sir, and it’s his house.” Mr. Waters looked around as if the governor might be listening right then. “It’s difficult to see how she can be kept away from the ball that’s been organized to welcome you officially. We’ve canceled the second dinner and arranged to hold one of the dances in Bunbury, where they won’t accompany us.”
“And I asked you to fix India and instead you have my father dressing me down once again.”
“I am sorry,” Mr. Waters said. His tone was curt.
The prince didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Helen, you’ll have to lend Maddie something to wear. It will be a relief to have you two in my sights instead of those bloody women. Thank you,” he said to me, although in truth I didn’t think I’d done anything but agree to come to a dance. And, really, I hadn’t even done that.
To Mr. Waters he said, “Maddie can walk in with Dickie. Helen, can you come now and help me with my remarks?”
“Of course, sir,” she said. She shook her head at Mr. Waters as she passed him, as if he’d done something wrong.
“I can’t go to the ball,” I said to Mr. Waters after they left.
“Leave it with me,” he said. “This is more about his friend, Mrs. Dudley Ward. She doesn’t want . . . She’s not writing to him and it’s unsettled him.” He picked up the telegram the prince had left on his desk that morning and put it down again without looking at it. “But you might have to go.”
“I don’t have anything to wear.”
“We’ll find something. Helen will have dresses.”
I laughed then. “I’ve worn just about everything Helen owns, I believe.”
“Government House might have something then. Really, Maddie, it’s the least of my worries right now.”
“Of course,” I said.
* * *
Helen came to my room after dinner.
“I just can’t believe it,” she said. “Rupert should have done something about this, and he hasn’t. Of course he hasn’t. You’ll have to come to the ball. But, Maddie darling, stay close to me. Do you understand? And if there’s late-night dancing, just say no, you’re too tired.”
“All right,” I said absently. I wasn’t really listening. I was too excited. The Prince of Wales had asked me, Maddie Bright, a nobody from nowhere, to a ball. He preferred my company to that of a governor and his wife. I couldn’t believe it.
“Just make sure you keep your wits about you,” she said then. “Tea. Think tea.”
I laughed. “Helen, you’re not really going to marry Ned, are you?”
“Why not?” she said. “He loves me, and he says he does.”
“It’s settling for less than you deserve.”
She smiled unkindly. “As if you’d know.”
I felt the sting of it.
“Just stay with me tonight, all right?” she said.
“Yes, of course,” I said.
We went to Helen’s room then to get dressed. She wore her cream silk dress and I wore a red one of hers and my own black slippers.
I told her how angry the prince had been, especially toward Mr. Waters. “Maybe it’s the lack of letters,” I said.
“Rupert puts up with it,” Helen said.
“He doesn’t have a choice.”
“We always have a choice,” Helen said. “Always. His every waking moment is a choice.”
I stopped Helen at the top of the stairs. “You can’t have it both ways.”
“What do you mean?”
“You can’t say I love Rupert but Rupert doesn’t love me and then, when he asks for your hand, say no and then say yes to someone else.”
“Why can’t I?”
“It doesn’t make sense.”
“So? In my experience, most of life doesn’t make sense.”
Downstairs the prince and Dickie were waiting in the lounge given over to our visit. When Mr. Waters came in, he just stared at Helen. The look on his face! Helen was beautiful, and he loved her. Oh, I thought. He was so dear to me. I wished Helen had some jolly sense.
Colonel Grigg came in then and Mr. Waters looked away from Helen. The colonel smiled over at Helen and while she returned his smile, I knew her well enough to know there was no love there. She loved Mr. Waters. Oh, you fool! I wanted to say.
Dickie, in tails, said Helen and I were two-thirds of a Union Jack. “Just a picture,” he said. He was smoking a cigarette. “Aren’t they, David? If only there was a blue one, we’d have all the colors covered.”
The prince laughed. “Oh yes, Dickie, but Helen here is too old for you, and Maddie is beyond your brains, I think. You’ll have to make do with the governor’s daughter.”
“What about me?” Colonel Grigg said in a baby voice.
“You’re the help,” the prince said. “Like Rupert. You do what you’re told.”
Colonel Grigg looked miffed. Mr. Waters hardly registered. He’d been standing apart from the group, his hands in his pockets. He was so handsome in his tails. So handsome, and utterly undone, I knew.
“Well, at least tonight we’ll have the ship’s band not the local fellows,” the prince said. “Eh, Rupert?”
Mr. Waters smiled. The prince seemed in better spirits and I was relieved.
The steward came in then and the prince went off to meet the officials. Helen and I were escorted into the ballroom by Dickie. The walls were papered in a soft green that set off the gleaming polished boards of dark timber. The tables, covered in ivory cloths, each had a centerpiece of native flowers: kangaroo paw and Geraldton wax. There were no streamers or flags, and no balloons. It was simple and elegant, just as the prince always preferred.
“Well, this is lovely,” I heard the prince tell the governor as I came in. He caught sight of me. “And may I present Miss Madeleine Bright from my staff.”
“Charmed, I’m sure,” the governor said. But he hardly noticed me. I’m sure he knew that underneath my
red silk there was nothing but a serving girl who couldn’t serve him in any way, and so he ignored me.
Thinking of that night now, I might still recall the prince’s beauty, his shining blond hair combed back, his eyes of that blue born only of blue-eyed parents, like a double dose, so light and piercing. And because I was in his orbit, I saw firsthand what it was like to have all the other planets spinning around you. It was exciting and exhilarating and a little bit dangerous.
I didn’t know the tunes, and I certainly didn’t know the dance steps, but Helen danced with the prince while I took lessons from Dickie, and then we swapped. I didn’t know the prince was expected to dance with girls who’d come along expressly to dance with him. I hardly knew what to wear to a ball, let alone the protocol for an official ball such as this one.
I was dancing with the prince, and I’d managed the steps well. He turned me around at arm’s length then pulled me close. I was sure I saw fondness in his eyes. He was fond of me. That’s why he’d asked me to the dance, why he’d insisted, why he danced with me now.
And I was fond of him too.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said in my ear, so close I could feel his breath and it gave me a thrill.
I looked around. Dickie had gone to get a drink. I couldn’t see Helen or Mr. Waters. “Sir, I don’t think you can. Everyone is watching you.”
“Hmm,” he said. “We’ll go out to the terrace. At least there I won’t have to look at that awful woman.” He spoke loudly enough for those around us to hear, and I worried about what they’d think. I did as he asked.
He led me out to the terrace, which looked over the gardens, lamps illuminating flowers and trees. During the day, it had a lovely view over the river. I could still hear the band, louder each time the doors were opened. It was a fine, cold night. The perfume of flowers wafted up.
There were other people out on the terrace, but I noticed he didn’t look toward them as we went over to the edge. He kept his eyes on the horizon, as if they wouldn’t know who he was. Imagine that, I thought, not being able to go anywhere without people noticing you.
“Well, Maddie, a little escape,” he said, taking a cigarette from his case and offering me one. I shook my head.
“Do you know where Mr. Waters is?” I said.
I felt nervous being out there alone with Prince Edward.
“I sent him upstairs to get my drumsticks,” he said. “I’m going to play with the band tonight if it kills me. I’m not sure Newdigate squared will approve.” The governor’s name was Newdigate Newdegate. Mr. Waters had made a comment about it when we first arrived.
The prince sighed heavily. “It’s nearly over.”
“What is, sir?”
“For God’s sake, call me David!” he said.
I must have looked frightened for he said more softly, “We’ve been dancing with one another all night. I am not your sir.”
“All right,” I said. “What’s nearly over, David?”
“All of this.”
I could smell the tobacco smoke now and the rosemary down in the gardens.
He smiled ruefully. “Oh, Maddie, I don’t expect you have any idea what this is like.”
“No, I’m afraid I don’t.”
He sighed. “It’s almost impossible to explain. I hate my life. I hate it.” He stopped abruptly and took a deep breath. “Listen to me, telling you all this. I shouldn’t, you know.”
“But why are you so angry with Mr. Waters? He’s so loyal and he works so hard for you.”
“Yes, well, Rupert is supposed to be my man. That’s his job. But they are all such meddlers really. And we just want to have fun, don’t we, Maddie?” He smiled then. “Why am I going on and on about all this boring nonsense? You are a beautiful girl. A very beautiful girl.” And he leaned in and kissed me on the lips.
My heart was racing. The touch of his lips on mine had stirred something in me that I didn’t fully understand. “Sir . . .” I began. “David . . .”
But I didn’t finish the sentence because he leaned in and kissed me again, full on the mouth this time. He pulled back, slid his eyes left and right.
All at once I realized where we were, who he was. I looked around, worried about who might have seen us. What was I thinking, kissing the Prince of Wales in full view? The couples around us were not staring, thankfully. I don’t know how they missed it. For me, it was as if an explosion had gone off right next to me.
Then I saw, on the other side of the terrace, Mr. Murdoch from the newspapers—and he was looking straight at me.
“Oh, Maddie,” the prince said. “My little Maddie. You must be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”
“Sir,” I said. “I’m not sure . . .”
Just then I heard Helen’s voice. “Maddie!” she called as she came over. “Here you are!” She hurried over to join us. “David, what are you doing bringing the young staff out onto the terrace? They’re all asking for you in there.”
“Where’s Dickie?” he asked, smiling down at Helen.
She made a gesture to indicate drinking. “They’ve taken him upstairs.”
“That was fast,” the prince said. “He usually waits until I start playing with the band.”
“Not tonight. You are going to have to talk to him again, I suspect. Are you all right, Maddie?” She looked at me.
“Yes, just flushed from the dancing,” I said. “It’s lovely to be out here in the cool air.”
I looked over to where Mr. Murdoch was standing, but he’d gone.
“Quite,” the prince said, looking at me slyly. “So stuffy in there a body might suffocate without knowing.” He dropped his cigarette to the tiles and ground it into the grout with his shoe. “Must I?”
“You must,” she said. “Or I’ll tell Rupert.”
“Please don’t, Helen. He’ll tick me off, and I’ve already been ticked off for dancing too much with you and Maddie. But really, what does he expect? That I’ll dance with the daughter? No, thank you. Give me my people any day. Anyway, Maddie can actually move. Not like skinny boots.”
I laughed, for it was a funny description of the governor’s daughter, who was very slim and wore a pair of red sparkly boots under her ball gown.
Helen looked at me and I stopped smiling. She started to say something, looked at the prince and back at me, then closed her mouth again.
Twenty-nine
LONDON, 1997
Victoria caught a cab straight to her father’s house in Twickenham from Heathrow. She had an odd feeling of unsafety, and she wanted to be near him. Not that she would tell him she was feeling that way, but she was unsettled still and couldn’t understand why. She wanted to be with her father at home.
In the cab, she wondered if she might ask him about Ben, but she wasn’t even sure what it was she needed to ask. She might have been able to ask her grandmother what to do, she thought, but not her father, not really.
Victoria had always felt she’d been a disappointment to her father. She’d left The Guardian, and now she wrote celebrity profiles. She was about to be married to a film star who made zombie movies. It probably wasn’t what he’d hoped for. How could she tell him that, even in this, she was somehow losing her footing?
When the cab pulled up outside the house, Victoria felt sadness, deep in her chest. Diana. At first she thought of Diana. There were no tears, just this ache in her chest. The feeling became more intense.
Oh God, she wanted her mother back right then.
Victoria had been eleven, nearly twelve, boarding at Marlborough, when her grandparents turned up one morning in the middle of term. They must have driven through the night to get there from Craster, although they didn’t say that and Victoria wasn’t old enough to think about things like distances.
She’d been called out of breakfast in the dining room. “Take some to
ast,” her dormitory supervisor had said, although you weren’t allowed to take food out of the dining room.
And then her grandfather was waiting for her in the headmaster’s office, his face grave. “Princess,” he said, smiling too brightly as soon as he saw her. “We’re off to London and you are coming with us.”
“Why?” she’d said, holding on to the toast.
“A whim,” he said, smiling still.
He held her hand too tightly on the way to the car, where her grandmother was waiting.
They took her straight to the hospital, not to home.
Victoria still remembered her father in the waiting room. He was slouched in a chair staring out at the London morning. He stood when they entered the room, and she saw he was wearing his big old sweater, the one with a moth hole in the front, and his khaki work pants, not his suit.
“Mummy’s gone,” he said, and his face crumpled, although there were no tears. He pulled Victoria into a rare hug, wouldn’t let go, even when she squirmed.
“Daddy, you’re hurting me,” she’d said.
She couldn’t make sense of what he was saying. She wasn’t sure where her mother had gone. It was her father she was most worried about. He should be wearing his suit, his overcoat. Why was he wearing his work clothes?
“Daddy?” she said.
Her mother had told her about the knee surgery on the phone the weekend just gone. It was minor, and she would be home the same day, “So don’t worry, darling.” Victoria was eleven. Of course she didn’t worry.
It was the anesthetic, her father said. But it was weeks before Victoria understood. Her grandmother kept saying her mother was sleeping. And that’s what she thought. At the funeral, the priest too had talked of sleep. Her mother was asleep, and she would wake up.
After the funeral, her father didn’t speak of her mother. The next time he left the house he had his suit on again.
Over time, Victoria found herself unable to raise the subject of her mother’s death. When she was young, she had thought him heartless, but as she grew older she saw the tenderness underneath, the tenderness he couldn’t quite reach in himself. It didn’t mean it wasn’t there.
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